edge of light

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1. Ever Higher (3387 words)

RoHun; masturbation/orgasm control/dacryphilia (request)

2. The Shape of Freedom (6643 words)

OzSeyZea; coming untouched

3. Into The Light (6383 words)

RoBulHun; threesome/nipple clamps

4. Caught In The Moment (4270 words)

DenEstLiet; voyeurism

5. Through The Everyday Din, ch. 1 (1861 words)

NedCan; wax play/finger sucking

6. All Astray (3677 words)

NorFin; intoxication/humiliation

7. Razorblade Caress (1473 words)

DenBela; blindfolds

8. (You Are) The Colors That I Wear (1742 words)

SveBul; uniform kink (bonus prompt)

9. Yet Unseen (3118 words)

HunBela; exhibitionism (request)

10. Relentless (2352 words)

CzechHun; oral sex/punishment/cnc

11. Through The Everyday Din, ch. 2 (1662 words)

NedCan; somnophilia/come licking

12. Again To You (2110 words)

NorHongIce; free use (bonus prompt) (request)

13.1 Anacrusis (5650 words)

KorEst; dom bottom|sub top (request)

13.2 In This Amorous Motion (3485 words)

LietPol; dildos (request)

14. One Thing For Sure (2211 words)

RoBul; possessive sex/choking|gagging

15. Moonlight Kissed (3146 words)

BelaBelg (Bel², if you will); object insertion/semi-public

16. If I Touch You (Like This) (4229 words)

MonaSey; 69 (writer's choice)

17. One and The Same (5106 words)

NedRoPort; messy sex

18. Ever Sweet Surrender (3069 words)

FinEstUkr; dom|sub/medical play

19 Like A Lover (1764 words)

LietBela; creampie (request)

20. (We Could) Pretend (3000 words)

NorIce; mirror sex

21. Headlong (7492 words)

RoBul; rimming/forced orgasm/monsterfucking (request)

22. Unheard (2818 words)

MonaBela; quiet sex (request)

23. Nothing To Win (3334 words)

NedIce; praise kink (request)

24. Free But Unreleased (5425 words)

DenEstFin; anal sex/gags

25. Between Us (5498 words)

EstLietBela; double penetration

26. Through The Everyday Din, ch. 3 (2681 words)

NedCan; fisting (bonus prompt)

27. Oblivion and Peace (12000 words)

BelaBelgCzechHunUkr; gangbang

28. Washed Ashore (4778 words)

NedPort; wall sex (bonus prompt)

29. When Everything's Splendor (4085 words)

EstLiet; body worship

30. As One (3170 words)

LietUkr; breeding (request)

31. Before Your Eyes (2467 words)

.

The first time it happened, Iryna had been sated and sleepy, and Tolys had been worked up. Having made her come once already, he was now fucking her hard, gripping her hips as he slammed into her. Iryna didn’t even particularly care if she came again; she just knew that she wanted him inside her, wanted to feel him come, to—

“Tolys,” she heard herself gasp, “fill me, please—I want—oh!”

His eyes were wide on her, pupils huge, and Iryna pulled him close, wide awake. There was, suddenly, a slightly desperate edge to his expression that pierced straight through the satisfied fog in her head.

“Fill me,” she repeated, whispering hoarsely. “I want to have your child, Tolys—put—oh, put your baby in me, make me—”

He swore, thrust deep into her, and came, buried deep in her cunt. She could feel it, the hot spill of his cum inside her, and shivered, eyes falling shut on a moan.

“Say… Say that again,” Tolys whispered. She could feel him trembling over her, inside her.

“I want your baby,” Iryna whispered again, looking at him. He moaned, closing his eyes in turn, and let his head hang so his long hair curtained his face from her. “Will you give that to me?”

“Iryna,” he said. She smiled until he kissed the expression off her lips. “I will. I will.”

Of course, they both knew that already. They had talked about it, but neither of them had brought it up like this before, and Iryna hadn’t been prepared for how it made her feel, or indeed for Tolys’s reaction. She ran a hand down her own body and circled her fingers around where he still pressed into her.

“God,” he breathed, slowly pulling out. Iryna felt empty immediately, wanted nothing more to have him back, but for now, she was happy enough just kissing him, curling around him and falling asleep. She would revisit it later.

They were both busy people, and didn’t have much time or energy between work and other duties that week to come back around to it. Still, Iryna daydreamed about it, about Tolys fucking her—which wasn’t new—coming inside her, filling her until she got pregnant with his child. They had been trying for a short while already, but now, every time she thought of it, she recalled the heated look in his eyes, the way he’d come so suddenly. It excited her.

And something about it made her feel powerful. She could give him what he wanted, just as he could give it to her.

She was still daydreaming about it when the weekend rolled around, and had no doubt that Tolys was, too. Iryna had run through several scenarios in her head as to how to bring it up, but it turned out that she needn’t have bothered.

On Saturday morning, she woke as early as she always did—something about having grown up on a farm always stuck—and left Tolys in bed to take a quick shower, as she also often did. He was also an early riser, but was still in bed when she finished, sleepily watching her come back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her body.

“’Ryna,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Come back in here. It’s Saturday.”

It defeated the purpose of taking a shower, but Iryna had to admit, his soft voice and warm eyes were tempting. Licking her lips, she hung the towel over the back of a chair. Tolys made a soft noise, lifting the covers for her to slip back under, naked. They were warm. Tolys, who was only in his underwear, let his arm drop over her body, pulling her back to his front. She sighed happily.

“Iryna,” he mumbled again.

She folded her fingers over his and brought them further around her body, making him shift closer. Undeniably, he was getting hard, and the feeling of him pressing against her ass through his boxers made her moan softly. She pushed their hands up to her breasts, which he stroked eagerly. His hips twitched, and she felt him move until his lips pressed against the side of her neck.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Please.”

A hum. She reached back until her hand found his hip and pulled him close to her, the trapped shape of his dick slipping perfectly between her thighs. She yanked at the boxers and felt Tolys smile even as he reached down and helped. A jolt ran through Iryna’s body when his cock was freed, touching her skin.

“I’m gonna…” He swallowed.

“What?” She tried to sound encouraging, already trembling with the anticipation of what he would say. “Please, tell me.”

“I want to take all the time I need today,” he whispered, his hand sliding over the soft flesh of her belly, down between her thighs. “I want to stay inside you, Iryna, fill you until I know for sure you will have my child.”

She gasped, a spike of heat coursing through her. Her cunt throbbed, and she suddenly felt wide awake again. This seemed to be a theme, and Iryna was all for it.

“Yes,” she moaned, rocking back against him. “Oh, fuck me, Tolys, I need to feel you—”

Unexpectedly, he pushed her to her front and kneeled over her thighs. She pushed her ass up eagerly, watching him over her shoulder. Still sleep-ruffled, he looked at her with heated eyes. His fingers now slipped between her legs from behind, and he groaned when he found her wet cunt, pushing them into her.

“You’re—”

“Please, I want—I need you.” Iryna wriggled her ass.

With another groan, Tolys leaned forward, and his cock was pressing into her. She moaned as he stretched her open, sheathing himself inside her as if they’d always been supposed to be joined that way. For a moment, he stayed there, and she just breathed, looking at him. He looked back, and ran his hands over her ass, her back.

“You feel amazing,” he said, and started to thrust into her.

There was something wild about him now that was very rare, something primal that tugged at a deep, desperate part of Iryna. He was normally so considerate, so careful not to let her go unsatisfied, but the way he was just fucking into her hard, almost using her, felt incredible. Gasping, Iryna rocked back against him while he dug his fingers into her sides. His cock felt huge inside her, hot and insistent, and she couldn’t wait to feel him come. She grasped at her own breast where it pressed against the mattress, tugging on her nipple as she breathed into the pillow.

Tolys was heaving her up a little, until she was on her knees, thighs spread around his legs as he continued to slam into her cunt. He pulled at her hips, forcing her down on his cock, and she muffled a cry into the pillow, feeling heat spike through her.

“Give me—” she heard herself gasp. “Give me your cum, Tolys, I want to feel it, I want—oh—I want your baby, I—”

“Fuck, Iryna,” he said, sounding surprised as well as incredibly heated. “I want that, too.”

She moaned, letting him rock her into their bed, her breasts dragging against the mattress with every thrust, her back arched.

Before long, he started to groan, and his fingers dug even deeper into her hips, pulling her flush against him as he came. Iryna cursed, panting a yes when she felt his thick cock twitch and spill, filling her throbbing cunt with his heat. It felt so right.

“Perfect,” Tolys slurred, echoing her thoughts. “Take it, Iryna.”

“Yes,” she panted again, looking back at him. When he started to pull back, she tried to move with him, unwilling to lose his cock.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Want to see you.”

So she let him pull out, and didn’t move for a moment, watching him look down at her wet cunt. He pushed two fingers back into her, as if making sure his cum stayed inside. It made her shiver.

She whispered, “How many times can you come inside me today?”

He just groaned, and tugged gently at her until she turned over.

“We’ll see,” he replied. He bent over her and kissed her, with his wet, softening cock slipping over her hip. “However many times it takes for me to give you what you need.” To make our child, he didn’t finish, but Iryna heard it anyway. She pressed a hand down over the soft swell of her stomach, imagining it growing. Tolys tangled his fingers through hers and started to mouth at her breast. He sucked on the skin and licked her nipple, then moved to the other one to do the same. His messy hair tickled her skin. Iryna moaned.

She had no idea how long he stayed there, just toying with her boobs, kissing her neck or her lips while his hands roamed over her body, but she knew it must’ve been longer than she’d realized when she felt him sit up between her legs, slipping his hands up her thighs, and he was nudging his cock against her cunt again.

At some point, her eyes had closed, and she opened them with a gasp, looking down her body at him. He was hard, and slipping over her clit as he rocked his hips.

“Well?” she asked, making him laugh softly. She shook her short hair out of her face and watched him grab her thighs, hoisting them up over his own.

Ever so slowly, Tolys pushed his cock back into her. Like this, pushing up, he seemed even bigger. Iryna felt herself throb, and reached down to press her hand back over her belly, imagining that she could feel him, stretching her open. Tolys widened his eyes and swore, jerking forward.

“Iryna?”

“Fuck me,” she commanded. And, when he immediately did, slamming into her, “Yes! Like that, oh, I can feel—”

She wasn’t sure whether she could actually feel his cock with her hand pressed over herself, but it was easy to imagine it, she felt so full of him. With her other hand, she grabbed at her slick breast where it was bouncing with every thrust, tweaking her nipple. She wrapped her legs around his thighs.

“Perfect,” Tolys panted again. This time, he did reach down and start rubbing her clit haphazardly, making her jolt and cry out. “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re dripping with—with my cum.”

“Fuck!” she shouted, whole body jerking, her cunt clenching down on his cock. That sounded perfect, and Iryna knew he would be embarrassed to have said that if he didn’t mean it. “Say that again.”

“I will fill you,” he grunted, harshly fucking into her and rubbing her clit. “I want to see you so full of it that I know I’ve made you pregnant, Iryna. That I—hn—know my child will grow inside you—”

She cursed again.

“And—god, you’re going to look gorgeous, you’re…Fuck.”

Still pressing her hand over her stomach, Iryna was sure she felt it when he came again, filled her once more. And this time, she followed him over the edge with a warbled cry, clenching down on his cock, drawing him deeper into her cunt. She pulled him closer with her legs around his thighs, trapping him there. He all but fell forward, kissing her desperately.

“I had no idea I was into that,” she gasped against his mouth. “Oh, that’s—perfect.”

“Yes,” he agreed. Their tongues tangled, and he slid his hands into her short blond hair, pulling her up a little with his cock still deep inside her, her cunt still clenching rhythmically. He mumbled, “Love you.”

“I love you,” Iryna breathed. “And I love to… I love to feel you inside me. Stay there.”

She felt him shiver, but he didn’t move, just groaned and rested his head in the crook of her neck.

“It’s going to take a while,” he mumbled.

“That’s perfect.”

For a while, they both just lay there, tangled around and inside each other, Tolys’s cock softening bit by bit. Iryna was sure she did, in fact, feel some of his release slipping out of her, sliding down her thighs and making her shiver, but he stayed inside her.

“I want to stay here in bed,” she whispered, “all day.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, tracing patterns into her skin.

“I want you to come in and fuck me whenever you want.”

He gasped, looking up at her with green eyes wide. She smiled and tucked his hair away from his flushed face.

“Does that sound good?”

“Iryna, that sounds perfect.” He swallowed, and she was sure she felt his cock give a twitch. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“You know what I want.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, moving his hips a little. “I do.”

It really was a while until he managed to get hard again, but he passed the time by kissing her and slowly rubbing circles around her clit until she was shaking, on the edge of another orgasm. When he finally really touched her, Iryna tipped over the edge nearly immediately, and she was unsurprised that that was the final push his body needed to get him ready once more.

He fucked her slowly, this time, rolling his hips while whispering against her skin, telling her how good she felt, how she was soaking wet and so hot. How he knew she would grow their child inside her, how amazing she would be at it. Iryna arched into him, tugging at his hair and clawing at his sweaty back. She wanted that, so much.

She nearly sobbed when she felt him come again. This time, he pulled back and sat up to look down at her cunt.

“You’re so wet,” he marveled, pushing three fingers into her. She spread her legs wider, making him groan and lick his lips. When he pulled his fingers out, he spread them apart, showing her the sticky liquid now coating them. Iryna gasped and bit her lip.

“Do you really want to… Stay here?” he asked, idly touching her thighs, her belly, leaving wet streaks in his wake.

“I do.” At least for now. “You can do… Whatever you want to.”

Tolys hummed. He leaned over to kiss her softly.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” he said. She smiled.

It was still very early, and Iryna drifted off as she listened to the distant sound of Tolys puttering around in the kitchen downstairs. He hadn’t put clothes on, but she imagined him in an apron, which made her smile. He’d be such a good father, she just knew it. She rested a hand on her stomach again.

With the lavish breakfast that Tolys eventually brought up—wait, had he run to the store?—also came a dessert of him getting down between her legs and eating her out while he fingered her, his hair catching on her thighs. Iryna came again, and he fucked her again, this time making her get back on her hands and knees and shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts.

When she sat up on her knees after he came, she definitely felt his cum slipping out of her. Moaning, she pressed her fingers over her cunt.

“Keep it inside,” Tolys said, voice hoarse and unsteady. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Fuck,” Iryna breathed, looking at him in awe. “I won’t.”

He just nodded, eyes dark. His face was flushed, and his hair still a mess.

Although she was now wide awake and it was nearing noon, Iryna stayed around in bed, reading and doing her daily puzzles, completely naked although the curtains were open. The day was overcast and rainy, and she felt quite cozy, especially when Tolys brought her tea, kissing her very chastely on the cheek and making her laugh. He shrugged.

Later still, he came back already hard, and told her he’d been imagining fucking her while she was pregnant, which sounded amazing to her, and he told her to lie on the edge of their bed so he could stand while he took her again. She shook and moaned on his cock, her legs up around his shoulders. He didn’t touch her clit that time, and told her she couldn’t do it herself while he pounded into her. It was such a change of tune from his usual consideration that it crashed over Iryna like a heatwave, and she threw her head back and came just from his cock inside her.

“Oh!” he gasped. That hardly ever happened, and Iryna felt so wrung out yet so good, she felt like she just kept coming.

“Please,” she moaned wetly, “please, Tolys, give me your cum.”

When he did, she was sure she was coming again, or maybe still. She grasped her own legs and held them up as he groaned, stilling deep inside her. He pressed his hand over her stomach and moved once more.

“I’m filling you,” he groaned.

Iryna just nodded, breathlessly. She was sure, somehow, she would be pregnant after today.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to do that again,” Tolys was saying. His legs were shaking.

“That’s alright,” she told him. She spread her legs a little when he pulled back, giving him an unobstructed view of her wet, throbbing cunt. “I’ve never been so full, Tolys.”

“Maybe one more time,” he croaked.

One more time happened that evening, after Iryna finally got out of bed to have dinner, feeling simultaneously gross and more beautiful than she ever had in her bathrobe, her thighs sticky with cum. Tolys, for his part, didn’t seem to see the gross; he kept shooting her dark glances over the kitchen table that made her feel hot.

“If you aren’t pregnant…” he hedged.

“I am,” Iryna said, absolutely sure. He blinked, opening his mouth, and she continued, “But… Uh, that doesn’t mean we can’t do this again.”

He breathed a curse that ended on a moan, brow furrowing. Iryna bit her lip and smiled, untying her bathrobe.

So, the last time he fucked her that day, she was bent over the kitchen table, knees on a chair and cheek pressed against the wood, her breasts swinging until Tolys grabbed them and held on for dear life.

“We’re going to have a child,” Iryna moaned. “I promise you, we are.”

“Yes,” he grunted. His hips slammed against her ass. One of his hands left her breasts to curve around her belly. Iryna reached down and touched her own clit, rubbing frantically.

“Give it to me,” she commanded.

One more time, he did. It still felt surprising, still felt good, and Iryna rubbed her clit until she came as well, clenching down on him. Tolys gasped when she did, pressing kisses to her back.

“Perfect,” he said.

.

Eduard isn’t entirely sure what happened here.

He tries to put it in order. He and Tuomi are visiting Søren for a belated birthday celebration, both having been busy on the actual date a few days ago. The three of them had dinner, nothing fancy, and after that, they’ve been spending the evening hanging out on Søren’s back porch, chatting and generally having a nice time. Just a few minutes ago, Eduard went inside to get some water, leaving Tuomi and Søren talking about some TV show he’s never heard of. And now…

“I’m sorry, I feel like I missed the part of the conversation where you guys decided it was time to start making out,” he says, quite faintly and sounding slightly strangled to his own ears. It’s no secret he’s attracted to both of them. They both know that, have acted on it in one way or another in years past. And then probably talked about it with each other, because that’s the kind of friendship they have. Eduard supposes he shouldn’t be surprised it’s also the kind of friendship that involves climbing all over each other on someone’s porch.

“Wha?” Søren says, pushing Tuomi away to look at Eduard. “Oh, yeah, guess that happens sometimes.”

“Sure,” Eduard replies dubiously, watching as Tuomi straightens his T-shirt but doesn’t move from where he’s fully straddling Søren. “So is this… A birthday thing? Because honestly, Tuomi, I’m your best friend, you could’ve warned me.”

Tuomi snickers, looking over at him. “It’s not a birthday thing, Ed.” A pause. “Although, now you mention it, I did forget to get you a present, didn’t I, Søren?”

“Hey, I told you, I don’t need any presents, man. I’m just happy you’re here.” He grins up at Tuomi, blue eyes crinkling.

 “I’ll bet you are,” Eduard mumbles, pushing his glasses up.

“Aw, Eduard, I’m glad you’re here as well!” Søren says, as he squeezes Tuomi’s thigh. “You can totally make out with me too, if you want. Or Tuomi, I won’t complain.”

Eduard swallows, and Tuomi’s lips part as he looks between them.                                                                                                                                  

“Oh!” Søren says, his grin getting even wider. “Oh, am I on to something here?”

“Shut up,” Tuomi replies.

“Aye, sir.” He leans back against the pillows on the rattan couch. “Would be one hell of a birthday gift, just sayin’.”

“Søren…”

“He did say to shut up,” Eduard interrupts, swallowing again when Tuomi’s gaze turns very intense, somewhat calculating, all of a sudden. Søren drums his feet on the floor in apparent excitement. If he hadn’t still been holding Tuomi’s legs, Eduard imagines he would have rubbed his hands together too.

“Tuomi, I changed my mind, please do get me a present.”

“On such short notice? I only brought Eduard.”

Søren looks at Eduard with wide, darkened eyes as he replies, “And I think he’ll do just fine.”

The air seems charged, practically crackling in the lingering warmth of the early summer day. Eduard realizes it’s up to him what happens now. He could probably leave them to it. Maybe, they’d stop, but it seems more likely they’d carry right on and he’d have to sit here knowing. This isn’t something they’ve done before, but he’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about it.

“Only if you promise to be good about it,” he tells Søren eventually, trying and mostly failing to hide the tremor of excited anticipation in his voice.

“I’ll be the most—the most best about everything, I swear!”

“The most best,” Tuomi echoes, amused. Eduard shrugs at him. It’s a very Søren thing to say, so he’ll take it.

“In that case… Happy birthday.”

Søren finally lets go of Tuomi to reach a hand towards Eduard, who puts his glass of water down, straightens his back, and walks over. With a deep breath, he smiles down at Søren as the man puts a hand on his leg. And then, he leans over and kisses Tuomi.

“Hey!” Søren whines, tugging at Eduard’s jeans. Tuomi just grins against his mouth, twisting to put an arm around his neck.

“Søren,” he says, only marginally pulling away from Eduard, “you said you wouldn’t complain.”

The man grumbles under his breath, quasi-annoyed. At the same time, Tuomi pushes his tongue into Eduard’s mouth, who meets it with his own eagerly. Years and years ago, when they were both teenagers, Tuomi had actually been his first kiss, so if the two of them know how to do anything at this point, it’s that. By the time they break apart, Søren is breathing heavily, and his eyes are so wide when Eduard looks down at him.

“That’s so fuckin’ hot,” he says, and then he reaches up and curls a hand around the back of Eduard’s neck to pull him down.

Putting one hand on the back of the couch, Eduard lets himself be kissed again, while Tuomi breathes against his temple and fogs up one lens of his glasses. Søren is more frantic in his kiss, still trying to talk even with Eduard’s tongue in his mouth, and when he pulls away, he brusquely pushes him and Tuomi together like they’re dolls he’s attempting to make kiss. It knocks Eduard’s glasses askew and makes Tuomi laugh uproariously. Søren snorts and stops pushing.

“Sorry, got a little overzealous,” he says. “Please tell me there’s more on offer than just makin’ out.”

Eduard and Tuomi exchange a look, and Eduard quirks his eyebrows before turning to Søren again, still leaning on the back of the couch so he looms over him. Which is nice; though Eduard is slightly taller, Søren often gives off the impression of being larger than life. Part of that is his wild hair, Eduard thinks.

“It’s your birthday party,” he tells the man. “Whatever you want.”

“Within reason,” Tuomi mumbles, which Eduard imagines was implied, but he supposes it can’t hurt to say it out loud. And Tuomi definitely has more experience with things that might not be ‘within reason’ for something casual like this than either him or Søren—as far as he knows. He’ll defer to his friend on that.

“Oh, jeez,” Søren says, hand flexing restlessly on Eduard’s neck. He wriggles in his seat. “Uh, fuck, alright, I wanna—can you guys give me, like, ten minutes to get ready?”

Eduard immediately pictures him putting on some sexy red lingerie, for some reason, and he blinks the image away distractedly. It’ll come back to haunt him later, no doubt.

“I think we can do that, right, Ed?” Tuomi says.

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, alright.” Søren wriggles some more, until both Eduard and Tuomi stand up straight and he can rise to his feet.

He immediately grabs both of their necks again and kisses Tuomi, which, yeah, that is very hot. Eduard flushes with heat as he watches their lips mesh together, and he isn’t surprised when Søren then immediately kisses him again, just as deeply.

“Alright,” Søren repeats, his lips kiss-red and wet. “C’mon, you guys can hang out.”

Dragging them both by their arms, he leads them into his bedroom and then lets go.

“You just do whatever, I’ll be right back.” He turns, and pauses in the doorway. “Not too much of whatever, y’know, leave some for me, but…” He hurries away.

Eduard can’t help but laugh, and Tuomi snorts. Turning to him, Eduard leans down for another kiss, slotting their bodies together.

“It has been a while since we’ve done this, Ed,” Tuomi mutters against his lips. “You know, even apart from the Søren of it all.”

“The Søren of it all.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” Tuomi pulls back to look up at him, familiar brown eyes curious, but edged with a kind of mischief. “You’ve had a threesome before, right?”

“Yes, Tuomas, I’ve had threesomes before,” Eduard replies. He sits down at the foot of Søren’s bed and starts to take off his shoes. “Just because I don’t tell you everything about my sex life—”

“Ed, I don’t tell you everything either, believe me,” Tuomi jokes. Sitting down next to him, he unlaces his boots, pausing to ask, “With Søren?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

“Huh.” Eduard lies back on the bed, which is neatly made with dark blue linens, and looks at the ceiling for a moment. Tuomi lies down next to him, their bare arms touching. Water is running somewhere in the house. “That seems right.”

“Yeah,” Tuomi agrees, and then rolls over to kiss him. It’s a soft, familiar sort of kiss, and Eduard can’t help but smile into it a little. He cards his fingers through Tuomi’s hair, while Tuomi runs his hand over the small strip of skin between his T-shirt and jeans. “Do you think doing whatever could involve us taking some clothes off?”

“Seems likely,” Eduard says, going for a sage tone to make him laugh. Both of them sit back up as Tuomi’s hand creeps underneath Eduard’s shirt. They continue to kiss slowly, re-acquainting themselves with each other. Eduard tucks his fingers around Tuomi’s jaw.

After a moment, when they part, he takes his glasses off with one hand and holds his arms up so Tuomi can remove his T-shirt. Replacing his glasses, he watches Tuomi take his own shirt off as well, and tries to see if there’s any new tattoos to spot on the man’s torso. There don’t seem to be any he hasn’t seen before this time. Tuomi grins and starts to unbutton his shorts.

Eduard is a little embarrassed when he remembers that he is currently wearing boxers with small loaves of bread printed on them, but he takes his jeans off anyway. Tuomi, as expected, snorts.

“Still not done with that joke, huh?” he asks, grinning up at Eduard as he stands to fully get his pants off.

“You talk about baking one time in high school and everyone calls you Breaduard for the next fifteen years—whoa!” Eduard laughs as Tuomi pulls him back down, sprawling them both on Søren’s bed. This time, Eduard leans over him to kiss him, running his hand down his chest while Tuomi tries not to smile against his mouth.

The arousal starting to bubble in Eduard’s body now is much less tense than what it was before, even if there’s still a heady anticipation rolling through him. It’s always been fairly easy with both Søren and Tuomi, and he’s just excited to know what Søren wants of them now.

He has no idea how long the two of them lie there, slowly kissing in just their underwear. He skates his fingertips along Tuomi’s waistband but no lower, and though Tuomi squeezes his ass teasingly, he mostly sticks to threading his fingers through Eduard’s thin hair and making distracted noises into his mouth. Glancing down, Eduard can see a definite stirring in his plain black boxers, similar to what he’s feeling himself. That’s a good look.

Søren announces his return by slamming his bedroom door open and making them both jump—Tuomi swears right into Eduard’s ear. Their friend is now wearing a bathrobe, which is neither red nor particularly sexy, disappointingly, and his freckled face is rosy.

“That’s exactly the amount of whatever I was talkin’ about!” he exclaims. “Left a little something for me to unwrap and all.”

“It is your birthday,” Eduard reminds him, watching him put his hands in the pockets of his bathrobe and just look down at the two of them. He shifts a little, deliberately turning to his side and pressing his interested cock against Tuomi’s hip.

“Hell yeah, it’s my birthday. Nice underwear, man.”

“Shut up.”

While Tuomi laughs out loud, Søren grins and then licks his lips.

“Never had a birthday threesome before, gotta say.” He walks around to Tuomi’s side of the bed and sits down, swinging his legs up to scoot over. One of his muscular thighs pokes between the halves of his bathrobe, all freckles. “You guys?”

“Nope!” Tuomi replies cheerily, sitting up and leaning over to him, touching that bare leg.

Eduard clears his throat, saying, “I have.”

“Dude!” Søren exclaims, but then Tuomi is kissing him again, once more twisting over his legs, and although he mumbles into the man’s mouth at first, he quickly shuts up and kisses back, wrapping his arms around Tuomi’s bare back.

Tuomi wastes no time before he starts to tug at the sash of Søren’s bathrobe. Eduard watches his eager movements, watches Søren pull his bottom lip between his teeth as he grins again—maybe he never really stopped. The man’s dark blue eyes flit his way, and Eduard smiles, adjusting his glasses before also getting to his knees, tugging Søren’s face his way while Tuomi mouths at his jaw and neck. Søren tries to say something else, then just groans happily when Eduard pushes a hand down his chest, tugging at his bathrobe.

Slowly, Tuomi and Eduard push Søren down onto his bed, and they pull the bathrobe open. There is nothing underneath. Just Søren’s cock, already hard and eagerly awaiting attention. Tuomi swears from where he’s got his mouth on the man’s lean chest.

“Oh, I got…” Wriggling, Søren pushes his hands into his pockets again, and pulls some condoms out of one and a bottle of lube out of the other. “I really want you guys to fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Eduard breathes, his hand shaking slightly when he takes the condoms from him. “Really?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Both of us?”

“Fuck yes. Y’know, not at the same time, obviously.” He considers this for a moment, and Tuomi looks up with amusement layered over the heated arousal in his eyes. Søren shakes his head. “Uh, no, not that. You can—you can take turns, it’ll be…” He takes a deep breath, grins, and doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he sits back up abruptly, and Tuomi starts to protest, but Søren continues, “First of all, let me unwrap those presents you’ve gotten me, Väinämöinen.”

He directs both Tuomi and Eduard to lie back, settling on his knees between them after tossing his bathrobe away. He presses his hands down over both of their clothed cocks, gaze rapidly flitting between them as he strokes them both through the fabric. He squeezes a little. Eduard inhales sharply, and Tuomi groans.

In quick succession, Søren tugs first Tuomi’s and then Eduard’s underwear down to their thighs, and then he gets his hands back on them, holding both of their cocks and grinning widely as he strokes them. Something about the easy way that Søren just sits there with a cock in each hand, looking giddy to be touching them both, is making Eduard flush with heat, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. That is unreasonably hot. Twisting, he leans over to Tuomi to kiss him again, mushing his glasses against the side of his face as their tongues haphazardly meet.

“Oh, yeah,” Søren breathes, squeezing again so that Tuomi curses into Eduard’s mouth. “Hell, you guys look fuckin’ great together. Y’know, I’ve imagined it before, I guess probably you got some experience havin’ someone else there—”

“Søren, do you ever shut up?” Tuomi asks, amused.

“Only when I got something else to do with my mouth,” he jokes. Tuomi narrows his eyes, and then jumps off the bed, for some reason, to pick up Søren’s bathrobe. Both Søren and Eduard look as he pulls the sash out of its loops and winds it around his hand once. When he sees them watching, he shrugs, suddenly looking a little sheepish.

“I figure… Tell me if this is a bad idea.” Discarding his underwear, he climbs back on the bed, getting behind Søren, and holds the sash in front of his face, so that it covers his mouth. Søren’s hand, still around Eduard’s cock but mostly still, jerks as the man’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, I’m into that,” he says, and Eduard nods minutely when they look over at him. It’s a good look, the dark green fabric against Søren’s freckled face.

“Nice.” Tuomi runs his thumb over Søren’s lips and kisses his jaw before he places the sash in his mouth. “Also, for the record, no, we don’t have experience with that. First for all of us, Søren.”

“Oh, wow, I’m honored to be—mmh, mh mmm.” True to form, Søren keeps trying to speak even while Tuomi ties the sash of his bathrobe around his head, and even mumbles something when the man presses against his back. His eyes close briefly and he moans through the makeshift gag when Tuomi wraps his arms around him and rocks his hips, grinning at Eduard.

After wriggling his own underwear off, Eduard pulls Søren down, pushing his fingers into the man’s wild hair as he presses one leg between his thighs so that his cock slips against Eduard’s skin. Eyes bright, Søren tries to say something, and then moans while Tuomi mumbles that he seems excited. He nods, wiggling his hips. His leg presses against Eduard’s cock, making him gasp softly.

“Tuomi, shouldn’t I—help?” Eduard asks, and both of them laugh. Søren very deliberately rocks down, groaning through his gag. He presses a hand over Eduard’s chest, then curls it around his ribcage to pull him closer.

“It’ll get crowded,” Tuomi says. “Besides, I don’t think this is gonna take much preparation.”

Søren mumbles agreeingly, his eyes twinkling in a way that suggests he would’ve made a stupid joke if he could speak, so Eduard raises his eyebrows and tries to look unimpressed as though the joke was actually spoken. Søren’s eyes crinkle in response. Then they close as he moans again and drops his head to rest on Eduard’s shoulder. This allows Eduard to finally look over at Tuomi, who is right then making a grab for the condoms. He throws one at Eduard, winking. The packet is slippery with lube. Søren breathes hotly against his skin while he tears it open and takes the condom out. The man’s breath wheezes around the sash in his mouth.

Eduard sees Tuomi grab his ass, digging his fingers in and smiling with dimpling cheeks as he looks down and then back up at the two of them. Eduard, after getting the condom on, grabs Søren’s hair again to pull him up, watching him as he tries to speak—probably curse—around his gag, eyelids fluttering.

“Søren,” Tuomi says, moving to grasp his own dick.

From here, Eduard can’t see when he pushes into Søren’s ass, but he feels Søren’s shudder, sees his eyes widen as he moans through the gag. He can even feel his cock twitch against his thigh. Tuomi, who is also kneeling over his thigh, swears under his breath. He’s still for a moment, while Søren just stares wide-eyed down at Eduard, his fingers flexing restlessly. His face is quite red, and the fabric in his mouth is damp as he grins around it. He makes a sound deep in his throat when Tuomi rocks his hips once.

“Is he enjoying it, Ed?” Tuomi asks jokingly, even though his voice has gone quite breathy.

“I think so,” Eduard replies. He tugs at Søren’s hair again when the man tries to nod, so he moans. “Yeah, I think so.”

It doesn’t take long—it never does, in Eduard’s experience—for Tuomi to lose any hint of subtlety in his movements. He starts slow and steady, making Søren moan every time he pushes into him. He and Eduard barely rock together, but every brush of his leg makes Eduard gasp softly anyway. But before long, Tuomi speeds up, and Søren muffles louder sounds into the sash of his bathrobe with every thrust, eyes going dark and breath heaving. He looks amazing, and Eduard is so caught up staring at his flushed face that he doesn’t even notice that his hand is creeping down until it suddenly clenches around his cock, and he yells, jolting. Søren grins around his gag, then muffles a shout when Eduard yanks at his hair.

“Fuck yeah,” Tuomi says, brown eyes zipping over them. He slams into Søren even as he tosses the bottle of lube down. “Get him fucking ready, Søren. It’s gonna be his turn soon.”

Eduard gasps, heat coursing through him while Søren shifts to do just that. He’s never going to get used to Tuomi, who’s usually so cheery and friendly, getting like that in bed. It’s really hot on the rare occasions he’s gotten to see it, but it’s also one of the reasons he thinks they wouldn’t work as a more serious couple; Eduard would definitely grow weary of it. Right now though, it’s definitely doing it for Søren as well, making his movements jerky and uncoordinated as he moves his slippery hand around Eduard’s erection.

Søren tries to say something, and, for the first time, looks somewhat frustrated by the gag—which Eduard doesn’t think he should find as hot as he does—but he can’t do anything about it before Tuomi is reaching over and grabbing the sash from behind, yanking him up. Chest heaving, Søren moans.

“Oh, wow,” Eduard can’t help but breathe, watching Tuomi thrust up into him once more before manhandling him further, spreading his legs over Eduard’s narrow hips, and before Eduard can even really register what’s going on, his cock is being grabbed and Søren is sinking down on him easily.

“Fuck yeah,” Tuomi says again, as Søren trembles, eyes wide on Eduard, trying to speak through the gag. His hair is even wilder than usual as he leans forward, putting his hands on either side of Eduard, and moves his hips, somewhat directed by Tuomi.

It’s fast, too. Tuomi pulls him down deep, making him shout behind the gag while Eduard gasps, grabbing his arms. After a while, Tuomi lets Søren’s hips go and gets off Eduard’s leg, which is good, because Eduard was starting to feel quite overwhelmed, as well as a little useless, just lying there, letting Søren do all the work when it is his birthday. He takes the opportunity to pull at Søren’s arms and roll them over.

Again, Søren gives a muffled shout, but it’s with surprise this time, and he grins up at Eduard when he’s on his back. Eduard, adjusting his glasses, smiles, and then thrusts back into him. Tuomi laughs, leaning against his side. Turning his head, Eduard kisses him to an enthusiastic grunt from Søren, whose legs tighten around him. He’s scorching around Eduard’s cock.

When Tuomi breaks their messy kiss, it’s so he can lie down next to Søren, his cock slipping against the man’s hip while he gets his mouth on his neck and his hand on his chest. Eduard clamps his hands around the man’s strong thighs and keeps his thrusts steady and deep, enjoying the way it makes Søren gasp through the gag, especially when Tuomi briefly touches his cock. That makes him clench, so that Eduard gasps at the pressure on his own dick. He feels very hot.

“Søren,” he pants. Both men look at him with dark eyes. “Do you think Tuomi should have another turn?”

Eyes going wide, Søren nods eagerly, again trying to speak—and he keeps trying as Tuomi slides down just a bit, Eduard lifts one of his legs, and pulls out of his ass to turn him sideways. Still holding his leg slightly up, he reaches for Tuomi’s cock, which is thicker than his own, and, satisfied that he’s slick enough, guides him to Søren’s hole. The angle is a little awkward, but Tuomi plasters himself against Søren’s back, pulling him close while he warbles unintelligibly behind the gag, his legs quaking. Eduard admires how they look together, wound around each other and him, as Tuomi immediately sets his punishing pace again, with a wild grin on his face. Søren is trying to grasp for him, trying to rock back, his hard cock bobbing between his legs.

When Eduard gets a hand around Søren, he yells again, and Tuomi swears loudly. Søren’s bed creaks dangerously, which makes Tuomi laugh.

“We might—have to—get you—a new bed—for your birthday,” he pants, and Søren tries to speak until Eduard tightens his fingers, at which point he just moans. “Hey, Søren, I think Ed might be gentler to you.” He abruptly pulls back. Søren’s body jerks, but he looks up at Eduard with wide eyes and nods, so Eduard pushes his leg back a little—though not fully—and guides himself into him again, easily.

Søren warbles, his ass clenching.

“Fuck, you love it,” Tuomi tells him, breathless and flushed, snaking a hand down over his heaving stomach to lightly touch his cock.

Eduard’s glasses are slipping down his sweaty nose, and Søren’s leg is sticking to his chest, but it feels so incredible, he doesn’t care. Not even the feeling of Søren’s ass gripping his cock, making his arousal skyrocket and tumble over itself, but the look of him grinning wildly around his gag, hands grasping the sheets or Tuomi’s arm, his hair standing on end, is what’s really getting to him.

“Tuomi,” Eduard says, and Søren just nods again, desperately.

This time, the switch is almost seamless. As soon as Eduard moves Søren’s leg and pulls out, Tuomi once again takes his place, sliding into Søren’s abused hole with ease, a groan falling from his lips. Søren makes a wet noise and tries to rock back against him.

Eduard sits back a little, and, as he vaguely expected, Tuomi immediately rolls them back over so he is thrusting into Søren from behind, pressing him into the mattress and holding him up by his makeshift gag.

“You’ll really break the bed,” Eduard pants while he clambers over to the side to see Søren’s face—he just grins wildly at the prospect, trying to yank Eduard over.

“It’s—his—birthday,” Tuomi grunts, pounding into Søren with each word. Søren warbles.

Without warning, Tuomi suddenly goes very still, and Eduard recognizes it as that thing he does where his orgasm seems to overtake him without warning, which isn’t that much fun when it happens when he’s in your mouth but is amazing to see now, his fingers clenching on Søren’s ass while Søren shouts into the gag.

“Fuck yeah,” Eduard says, because neither of them seems to be able to speak right then and it seems like the thing they’re thinking. Søren actually grins up at him with those wild eyes, a strand of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Tuomi just grunts, starting to move again. After a few more thrusts, he pulls out and all but falls back.

“Fuck yeah,” he agrees, catching his breath.

Søren unsteadily gets to his knees and tugs at Eduard, almost as if he wants to kiss him before he remembers the gag. Instead, he falls to his back against the pillow, once again spreading his strong legs around him.

“Yeah?” Eduard asks, and gets another nod. Søren is still hard as a rock.

“Hold on,” Tuomi says, and crawls over, nudging Søren to slide in behind him, bracketing him with his legs and propping him up against his chest. Søren moans happily, his back arching a little. Tuomi meets Eduard’s eye, a glazed look in his own, and grins slowly, sweeping his hands down Søren’s sides.

When Søren wriggles, trying to say something and frowning, Eduard takes that as a sign of impatience, which makes him smile. Søren never is very patient. And Tuomi, while extremely patient in certain situations, is not that way during sex. He could have easily predicted it’d all be very frantic, and is vaguely pleased he was right, that none of them are really different than they are in other sexual situations. It’s a testament to their friendship.

“Ed, are you just gonna sit there?” Tuomi asks, amused.

“Well, it’s a great view.” Even as he says it, Eduard carefully grasps his own cock and guides it down, sliding back into Søren’s heat. The man judders and moans, and Tuomi eagerly mouths at his jaw, licking his ear and getting his hair in his face.

Eduard makes himself keep the same pace, which seems very sedate after Tuomi’s onslaught, but Søren evidently appreciates it just as much, gasping and writhing between them. Tuomi is whispering undoubtedly filthy things in his ear that Eduard cannot hear over the rushing of his own blood in his body. Søren tries to speak, tries to turn his head and kiss Tuomi, who smirks at him. He jolts when Eduard touches his cock, looking over at him and warbling something, then throwing his head back on Tuomi’s shoulder. Tuomi watches with dark eyes.

“You’re right, it’s fucking great,” he says.

Søren muffles something into his gag, and then, all at once, he seems to have had enough and yanks it down, out of his mouth, and is immediately turning his face up to kiss Tuomi, catching his surprised noise with an uncoordinated attack on his mouth. He curls one arm back around Tuomi’s head even as he breaks the kiss and slides further down, his knees pressing into Eduard’s sides.

“Yes,” he pants. And, “Fuck, fuck me, god.”

And though preventing that is ostensibly exactly why they put the gag in, it makes the heat in Eduard’s body spike sharply to hear him now blurt those things out loud. And even more when Søren yanks him down and kisses him just as messily before getting to Tuomi again. Still taking turns, Eduard thinks wildly.

It’s almost as if it’s Søren’s own way of shutting himself up, barely giving himself time to breathe between kissing them both, until Eduard is bent over so far there is almost no space between him and Tuomi and his foggy glasses have slipped so far down they’re in danger of falling. Tuomi pushes them up, then reaches down.

His hand joins Eduard’s mostly still one around Søren’s cock, and Søren moans loudly, clenching.

“Yes,” he pants again. “God, fuck—” He breaks off, grinning wildly as Eduard fucks him, still steadily.

Eduard’s own arousal is cresting very fast as well. Watching Søren, he speeds up a little, which earns him another gasped yes and Tuomi smirking in a very sharp way.

It seems almost sudden when Søren comes. Still hanging onto Tuomi with one arm, he yanks at his stringy hair, and seems to slide down even more. He curses, his ass clenching, and Eduard can feel the pulsing heat of his cock through the condom around it. He gasps, continuing to thrust into him to more warbled encouragements.

“C’mon, Eduard,” Søren pants, “get me a fuckin’ present.”

It doesn’t take long before the heat crashes over Eduard and he comes too, buried in Søren’s ass just like Tuomi, although he keeps moving while he groans. Søren actually laughs with delight, although the sound is more gasp than anything else.

“Fuck,” Eduard grits out. He moves through his orgasm, shuddering with pleasure even while Søren yanks at his hair too, moaning his name. He nearly knocks his glasses off, but Eduard doesn’t even care right then. He feels like a mess, in the best way possible.

He slows eventually, and lets himself slip out, holding the condom securely. His cock immediately feels cold.

“Oh my god, you guys, I know what I fuckin’ want for Christmas,” Søren pants.

“Is it socks?” Eduard asks breathlessly, even while he slips the condom off. Tuomi breaks into uproarious laughter, which Søren and Eduard both can’t help but join in on, until the three of them collapse into a breathless, sweaty pile of limbs on the bed. Eduard and Tuomi have ended up bracketing Søren, who’s thrown an arm over his eyes and is grinning at the ceiling.

“Happy birthday, Søren,” Tuomi mumbles, absently patting his sweaty chest.

“Yes, happy birthday,” Eduard says. His limbs feel heavy and sated.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday,” Søren agrees. “Tuomi, you’re next, what do you want?”

Eduard thinks that’s a very dangerous question, and when Tuomi doesn’t immediately answer, Søren removes his arm to glance at Tuomi, who looks extremely deep in thought. Søren pulls a face at Eduard, who can’t help but snort, which makes him smile once more.

“Well, he’s got six months to think about it,” Søren says.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”

Tuomi laughs, throws an arm across both of them, and says, “Whatever it is, I think we’ll have a great time.”

.

Iceland finishes tying a knot and tugs on the rope to check it. He hums. Seems good.

Pushing his hair out of his face, he walks to the front of the small boat he’s on to look out over the calm water beyond the dock, sparkling in the sunset.

“Ah, hm, you’re finished.”

A gentle hand lands on the back of Iceland’s neck, and he turns slightly to face Netherlands, who’s looking unusually windswept after their day out at sea. The nation smiles softly at him, squeezing his neck a little.

“You’re really pickin’ it up quick, Iceland,” the man murmurs.

“Thanks.” Iceland feels himself blush a little and hopes it doesn’t show in this light. “There might be some, I don’t know, Viking heritage in me or something.”

“Hm, maybe, but I’m not letting Denmark on this boat again anytime soon, so don’t sell yourself short.” Straightening, Netherlands leads Iceland over to where the small cabin is. “You did great at the helm, too.”

“Yeah?” That means a lot, coming from him.

“Looked great.” Netherlands quirks an eyebrow at him, and Iceland laughs, ducking his head.

It’s still a bit of a novelty, this playful side of a nation he’d long assumed to just be a collection of calculations of profit in a coat and scarf. (Alright, that is actually Finland’s description of him, but it had seemed apt.) Their friendship is surprisingly simple, started mostly by a mutual wariness of Denmark’s shenanigans and some unspoken desire to get away from somewhat overbearing siblings.

“Do you want some tea?” Netherlands is asking now, ducking down into the cabin and pulling out a thermos. “It’s getting a little chilly out here.”

Iceland doesn’t think it is, but he’s the one named Iceland, so he supposes that makes sense, and he would actually like some tea. Even if Netherlands reuses his tea bags.

Pouring tea into travel mugs, Netherlands sits down on the little bench behind the ship’s wheel, sprawling. At the gentle jerk of his chin, Iceland sits down next to him. He’s quietly pleased when Netherlands turns towards him so their legs touch, whether that’s intentional or not.

As Iceland takes sips of tea, Netherlands takes out a map of the waterways folded to the place where they are now, and lays it on his knees. He trails a finger over it, muttering under his breath in Dutch. Iceland tilts his head curiously to look too, scooting a little closer. Out of the corner of his eye, Netherlands glances at him, and quirks another small smile.

“We’re goin’ up north,” he says, tapping the map. “You’ll be able to sail back home once we’re done here, Iceland.”

“That might be a bit ambitious.” Iceland pulls his legs up onto the bench and continues under his breath, “Maybe if you came along.”

“Hm, you’d get sick of me,” Netherlands says, without any real inflection to it. “Most people do.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that it kind of startles Iceland, who blinks up at him while he puts the map away. Netherlands raises his eyebrows. Although Iceland opens his mouth, he’s not sure what to say, so he just takes a sip of tea instead.

“Well, except Belgium, I think, but I’m tired of her at this point,” Netherlands continues, now with a dry humor to his tone.

“I know what that’s like,” Iceland mutters, and Netherlands huffs a laugh, and then clasps his knee, which is now resting against his thigh. “I wouldn’t… Get sick of you.”

A wry smile pulls at the nation’s full lips, but he doesn’t say anything, just drinks tea. They both do, watching the sun sink below the horizon silently. It’s summer, and the days feel shorter than they should be to Iceland, but he kind of likes it, honestly.

“Really,” Netherlands says after a while, setting his empty mug down, “I think you’re doin’ very well. I’ve no problem letting you get ready by yourself tomorrow.”

“That’s nice,” Iceland replies softly, his own tea also gone. Again, he ducks his head in an attempt to hide the pleased blush he’s sure steals over his face, and continues, “I have a great teacher.”

“You flatter me, Iceland.”

Netherlands’s hand moves from Iceland’s knee to the back of his neck again, in a gesture that feels at once more and less intimate. Iceland doesn’t recall seeing him do that to anyone else, ever, and he’s trying not to read into it. He’s just got everyone finally approaching him as an adult (which only took an entire fucking millennium) and despite Netherlands not being that much older than him, he kind of feels like a schoolboy with a crush sometimes, like when the nation does things like this. And, alright, it’s really his own fault, literally coming here to learn from him when he knows Denmark would’ve been more than happy to teach him how to sail a modern boat, but still. Netherlands is so hard to read. The hand squeezes slightly, and Iceland bites his lip.

“There’s not been… Many people on this boat,” Netherlands says. He takes a breath, and then uses his free hand to gently pull Iceland’s legs over his, again clasping his knee when he’s done.

Iceland, whose heart suddenly beats very fast, looks up at his face. Surely, he can read into that, right? Surely, this isn’t just a friendly gesture in either of their cultures, right?

“Netherlands?” he asks.

“I’m… Happy you’re here,” the nation says.

“Happy to be here,” Iceland replies, almost on autopilot, but then he shakes his head and slowly scoots a little closer, draping his legs further over Netherlands’s lap. “What does that mean?”

Netherlands now curls his hand around the back of his knee, and the long fingers of his other hand curl into the hair at Iceland’s nape. He opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, and isn’t that something? A few years ago, Iceland would never have guessed there was anything beyond the smooth-talking businessman. (Even when Denmark told wild tales of what the two of them got up to, he never really believed it.)

“It felt a little selfish, askin’ you to come out here,” Netherlands says, deep voice soft but steady. “And normally, I don’t care, but you’re…”

“I’m just me,” Iceland tells him, heart trying to beat out of his chest. Somewhat shakily, he rests a hand against Netherlands’s chest, leaning a little into him.

“Yes.” A huff. “And I don’t know what it is about that, Iceland.” He leans towards Iceland, too, and Iceland swallows hard. He pushes his hand up so his fingertips touch the nation’s warm neck, watching Netherlands’s lips part. He bites his own lip.

They just look at each other while Iceland tries and fails to come up with something to say, because this is… This is more than he could have hoped for. Netherlands’s pulse is steady under his fingers, but it jumps when Iceland scoots even closer.

“You—” he starts, then takes a deep breath and decides that he has to do something or he’s going to cause a volcanic eruption somewhere. Iceland leans up, watching Netherlands widen his eyes and then lean down in turn, until their lips brush.

Okay, that volcanic eruption might still happen, he thinks, just because of the way that light touch sparks through him, and then the way Netherlands pulls him closer, makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat, and deepens the brush of their mouths into a fervent kiss. Iceland eagerly kisses back, letting himself be pulled into the nation’s lap and winding his arm around his neck as their tongues tangle. He feels hot all over.

Netherlands’s breath is heavy when he pulls back, green eyes wide on Iceland, and if he looked windswept before, it’s nothing compared to the disheveled look on him now. A thrill courses through Iceland at the sight of it. Apparently, he did that, with just one kiss.

“Alright,” Netherlands says breathlessly. “Alright.” And he kisses him again.

Iceland twists in his lap, getting both arms around the man’s neck while Netherlands grabs his thighs to move him until he’s straddling him, all while they kiss frantically. He runs his large hands up Iceland’s back when he’s done manhandling him, arching into the kiss.

This time, when they part, Iceland grabs his face with both hands and stares down at him. His eyes are bright in the dusky light, and his hands curl into Iceland’s shirt.

“Netherlands,” Iceland breathes, unsure what else to say.

“Fuckin’ incredible, Iceland,” the nation whispers, smiling softly when that pulls a noise from him. “Don’t need any pointers on that.”

Iceland bites his lip and tries to look unimpressed, which makes Netherlands laugh under his breath, even as his gaze roves over Iceland’s face and his hands run along his back. Iceland leans down again, unwilling to stop kissing now that it’s on offer. It’s slower, this time, at least at first, and he tilts Netherlands back over the back of the bench, rising up on his knees. Netherlands groans, and one of his hands slips underneath Iceland’s shirt as he arches. Iceland gasps softly against his mouth. The kiss stays slow but deep until Netherlands pulls him down and bucks his hips up. Iceland’s cock has already been taking an interest, and that would be embarrassing if not for how he can now feel the shape of Netherlands through his pants. He rolls his hips down in turn, and Netherlands makes another great noise in his throat.

Both of his hands now push up under Iceland’s shirt, pressing along his spine and his shoulder blades. Iceland tugs at the collar of his shirt in response, and then almost whines when Netherlands pulls back. He bites his lip to hold the sound in.

“That’s…” Netherlands smiles with slick lips, wider than Iceland has ever seen him do, which makes heat curl in his stomach. “Better than I imagined.”

“You imagined…” Iceland breathes, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Told you, it felt selfish, askin’ you to come down here.” He settles his hands just underneath Iceland’s ribs, gaze flicking down to the bit of skin revealed around his waist.

While the boat gently rocks on the calm water, Iceland tugs at his shirt again.

“You wanna have sex?” Netherlands whispers, voice gone deeper than usual, sending a shiver down Iceland’s spine.

“Yes,” he chokes out. “Fuck yes.” He reaches down to pull at Netherlands’s shirt from the bottom, and the nation pulls his own hands back to let him. His chest is leanly muscular, with little chest hair, and he sighs when Iceland drags his fingers over it.

“Right now, huh?” he asks.

“Yes, right now,” Iceland replies, agitatedly. There’s no way he’s not getting his hands all over him now that he knows he can. It’s been frustrating enough having to watch him confidently maneuver the boat in his stupid tank top, getting only the briefest of touches even when Netherlands was making him flush with praise at a job well done.

“Good,” the man now says, and he quickly takes his own shirt off, then gently tugs at Iceland’s. “Let me take a look at you?”

Swallowing, Iceland slowly works his shirt over his head, flinging it over the ship’s wheel, and he shivers, not because of the cooling air but because Netherlands skates his fingers over his ribs, right before leaning forward and pressing a lingering kiss to his breastbone.

“Amazin’,” he whispers. Iceland’s breath hitches, and he yanks the nation back by his hair to kiss him again. To his delight, that makes him groan, and he files that knowledge away.

They roll their clothed hips together again, chests now touching. When Netherlands abruptly pulls back, it’s to tell Iceland that he feels good, that his mouth is incredible, and Iceland curses sharply, heat spiking through him. He stands up, wobbling with the motion of the boat, and before Netherlands can ask, drops to his knees on the deck.

“Oh,” Netherlands breathes, spreading his long legs. “You don’t—you don’t have to, I’d—”

“Let me,” Iceland tells him, unbuckling his belt with shaking fingers. He doesn’t know yet what his plan is, exactly, but he knows he feels flushed and eager and that having Netherlands looking down at him like that is only making it better.

“Of course, Iceland.” He helps by lifting his ass off the bench to get his pants off, leaving him in boxer briefs that do little to hide his arousal, which is… That feels good.

Iceland traces a finger over the shape of him hidden beneath the fabric before curling his hand around it.

“Hm, that’s good,” Netherlands mumbles. “Look at you down there. You look amazin’, Iceland.”

With an involuntary moan falling from his lips, Iceland abruptly tugs his underwear down, and the nation’s cock springs free. He’s hard, and the sight of him sprawling naked, breathing Iceland’s name, makes Iceland curse sharply, pressing a hand against his own crotch to get some relief.

“You see? That’s for you.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Iceland breathes. He’s found the one time Netherlands doesn’t speak like he’s trying to keep a word count down, and he’s almost embarrassed at how easily it’s getting to him. Hand trembling slightly, he grabs his cock, pulling it up. It fits perfectly in his hand, he thinks, and he looks up at Netherlands as he leans forward.

Netherlands gasps when Iceland licks a slow stripe up along his cock, only looking away when it becomes too much. Iceland runs his mouth over the hot shaft, pressing his lips to the head to Netherlands’s heavy breath and encouraging little moans. He slides his mouth around it, licking up the taste of his precum and breathing in the scent of sea wind.

“You feel good, Iceland,” he pants. “Look fuckin’ hot sucking my dick.”

Moaning, Iceland bobs his head a little, while he tries to fumble his own pants open with one hand. Netherlands reaches for him, carding his fingers through his hair and meeting his eye when he glances up again, lips still around the head of his cock.

“Fuck, you should see yourself.” Netherlands licks his lips, and moans when Iceland flicks his tongue over his cock. “Come back up here.”

Iceland raises his eyebrows. He’s barely gotten started!

“We’re gonna have plenty of time, Iceland,” Netherlands says, sounding somewhat amused. “I wanna feel you now, okay?”

Iceland stands slowly. Netherlands reaches out to steady him, and then to undo his fly, and, at Iceland’s strangled yes, pull his pants and his underwear down, easily. Iceland gasps and resists the urge to cover himself up—though that’s quickly forgotten when Netherlands folds one of those large hands around his erection and pumps him once, twice.

“You’re gonna feel so good inside me,” he says, as if that’s not gonna make Iceland’s knees buckle and his cock leak precum. “Not right now, but soon.”

“I… I’d like that,” Iceland stutters. He yelps when Netherlands pulls him down into his lap just like earlier, sideways on the bench, but relaxes when he’s kissed again, frantically, the man’s hand wrapping back around his cock. Iceland weaves his fingers through the short hair at his nape, breathing heavily against his lips when they part again.

“And you?” Netherlands murmurs.

“Hm?”

“Will you let me fuck you?” He kisses Iceland’s neck, smiling when he gasps. “Bet you’d look amazin’ on my cock.”

“Oh—fuck, maybe,” Iceland replies. He has to be in a really specific mood to enjoy getting fucked. Netherlands just hums, his tongue flicking out against the warm skin of his neck while he slowly moves his hand around his cock.

“What about this?” he asks, and pushes Iceland around until his back is to the man’s front, and he can feel his hard cock slide up between his ass cheeks. Before he can protest, Netherlands shifts, sliding down until his cock is pressed up between Iceland’s thighs.

“Oh, that’s—that’s nice,” Iceland says when he moves a little. He spits into his own hand and reaches down to get Netherlands’s cock a little more slick, and the slide between his legs feels strangely tantalizing, almost but not quite brushing his own cock, and it looks…

Netherlands’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close while Iceland rocks back into him, and he whispers, “Amazin’, Iceland.”

With a moan, Iceland rocks back with more intent, arching back against him while the nation mouths at his neck and whispers encouragements while his hands run over his chest.

“You’re doin’ so—mh—so well, ridin’ me like that,” Netherlands pants while he rolls Iceland’s nipples, and Iceland groans, his cock twitching. “Good, feels fuckin’ great, Iceland.”

The way he pronounces Iceland’s name, with his voice gone all breathy like that, is going to be etched into his brain, Iceland just knows it. He starts to reach for his own straining cock, but Netherlands beats him to it. With one arm still wrapped around his chest and pulling him close, he wraps a hand around Iceland’s cock and lets the movement of his hips make it so he’s thrusting into his fist.

“Hell yeah, fuck my hand,” Netherlands drawls. “That’s incredible, I’m gonna love takin’ you, gonna feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Iceland chokes out. How does he just say things like that? That’s so obscene, and it’s making arousal crash through him with every word.

“Yes,” Netherlands replies, and then he buries his face in Iceland’s neck as he comes, the hot spurt of his release hitting Iceland’s thighs and making him twitch and moan as he keeps moving. Iceland clutches Netherlands’s arm with one hand, fingers leaving pale indents in the skin as he continues to thrust into his hand—Netherlands starts to move it after a long moment, and Iceland moans loudly.

He comes with a sharp gasp when Netherlands says, “Fuckin’ perfect, Iceland,” and tugs at his earlobe with his teeth, arching up and covering his large hand in cum as it moves around him. Iceland digs his blunt nails into the nation’s arm while he rides out his orgasm, letting his head tip back on to his shoulder.

Netherlands uses his clean hand to turn his face and kiss him, sideways and messily, but deeply, swallowing his soft moans. Iceland can feel himself going relaxed and pliant in his arms, kissing back. Eventually, he twists, so he’s half-lying on Netherlands, who must be half off the bench by now, and they keep exchanging soft, lazy kisses. It feels easy, which is not a word Iceland would ever associate with Netherlands, but it feels right to just bask in it a bit as the first stars blink into view over the water.

“Alright,” the man eventually mumbles, still half against Iceland’s lips. “I’m gonna get a crick in my back, Iceland.”

They rearrange themselves until Iceland is back to being sideways in his lap. Normally, he’d think it’d be kind of humiliating to be in someone’s lap, but this is nice. They kiss softly while the boat rocks on the gentle waves.

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that,” Netherlands whispers, and Iceland’s breath hitches at how soft his voice has gone. He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak without sounding like an idiot. “I’m happy you’re here.”

Iceland nods again, and Netherlands chuckles with amusement.

“Afterglow’s a good look on you.” He pushes Iceland’s hair away from his hot forehead. “Can’t wait to see you really fucked out, must be incredible.”

Iceland releases a breath and bites his lip, though it doesn’t quite stop a breathy noise from escaping.

“Maybe I will come along to your home. So many things to explore.”

And Iceland can’t really disagree with that.

.

“Do you know where Nadzeya is?”

“What—Olympe! I didn’t know you’d be here!” The bassist of Nadzeya’s band grinned, then gestured. “She should be back there somewhere.”

Olympe nodded her thanks and continued her trek through the bowels of the concert venue. She wasn’t supposed to be here at all, and almost wasn’t let in, but luckily, the keyboardist had spotted her outside arguing with security and vouched for her.

It was ridiculous, of course, that she couldn’t just go in to see her girlfriend and wish her good luck, but that was the way it was right now.

Although the kind of equipment being hauled around and the sort of people hauling it were markedly different from when Olympe played somewhere with the orchestra she was in, the atmosphere felt similar. An excited, nervous hum permeated the air backstage, and it made her smile.

“Olympe?”

“Oh, Nadzeya!” She didn’t see her at first, whirling around on her high heels to find where her voice was coming from, before spotting her in the shadows, dressed in all black as usual, only her pale skin and hair standing out.

“What are you doing here?” Nadzeya asked, sounding almost annoyed.

Olympe, having walked over, raised her eyebrows.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” she clarified. “Just wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” Olympe touched her bare arm.

Yes, her outfit was all-black as usual, but it was definitely a lot more intricate, featuring a leather corset and a flowy skirt that was cut high in the front to show off her tall boots, which, unlike most of her shoes, weren’t heeled. Not that it made much of a dent in their height difference. Olympe had seen the separate components of the outfit before, and they looked even better on her all together than she’d imagined.

“You look beautiful,” she told Nadzeya, who smiled a pleased little smile. She wasn’t wearing makeup yet.

“Thank you.” Nadzeya took a deep breath, then suddenly bent down and kissed Olympe, hard. Although she was startled, Olympe happily returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, her lips slightly sticking to Nadzeya’s with her lip gloss. Nadzeya made a disgruntled little noise. Her fingers flexed on Olympe’s jaw, sliding around her neck. Although her expression didn’t give anything away, Olympe knew her well enough by now, several years into their relationship, that she could read tension in the lines of her body, in the restless swiping of her hands.

Smiling, Olympe kissed her again, slowing them down deliberately even when Nadzeya tried to move quick.

“I’m just.” Nadzeya sighed.

“Nervous?”

“Maybe?” Another disgruntled noise. “Every fucking show, I get this way. I’ve been doing this for years.”

“I know the feeling.” And Olympe wasn’t even the lead singer. Although Nadzeya wasn’t actually the one generally doing the talking during her band’s shows, leaving it to the bassist and keyboardist most of the time, she was very much the one with the greatest expectations placed on her. “Is there anything I can do to help, now that I’m here?”

A grunt. Olympe smiled, amused, and let herself be pulled into another restless kiss.

“What do you usually do?” she asked.

“Probably annoy people,” Nadzeya said, dryly. Her fingers tapped against the side of Olympe’s neck, so Olympe took her hand and pressed it softly against her lips, smiling when that made her sigh again.

“Feel free to annoy me.”

“I don’t wanna annoy you, Olympe, I just… Ugh.” She ran a hand through her hair, and then bounced once on her toes, before abruptly pulling Olympe into another kiss as if that was the only thing that would distract her.

And that was absolutely fine by Olympe. She was more than happy to provide that distraction, making an encouraging little noise when Nadzeya ran her hands up and down her sides, curving over her breasts and down around her back to pull her closer. Someone whistled as they walked by, and Nadzeya lifted her head to glare her fiercest glare, though the person had already walked past. As always, the look was gorgeous on her and made Olympe’s heart skip a beat. She rested one of her own hands on Nadzeya’s neck and let it slide down slowly.

“I could distract you,” she whispered.

“Wh-what?”

Pushing her glasses up, Olympe raised an eyebrow at Nadzeya, whose dark blue eyes had gone wide.

“All I’m saying is, I know some very effective ways of taking your mind off things, Nadzeya.”

“You… Do,” she agreed. Olympe could feel that her heartbeat was fast. “That’s a crazy idea. I love it.”

“Excellent.” Olympe looked around, and was delighted when Nadzeya pulled her behind a partition, where, apparently, she’d set up a little dressing room. Or, at the very least, a table with a mirror and her makeup bag on it. “Does this venue not have dressing rooms?”

“Something happened to them, I guess.” Nadzeya rolled her eyes, but somehow managed to look almost giddy at the same time. Well, by her standards. The space was dark, the lamp on the table not on, and Olympe thought that was quite perfect for what she had in mind. She pulled Nadzeya down into a kiss.

People often assumed Olympe to be the most risk-averse out of the two of them, and she could see how that was an easy assumption to make when her girlfriend was wearing black dresses and combat boots and a lot of very dark eyeshadow while Olympe was in pastel blouses and pencil skirts and shiny lip gloss, but it was also wrong. Although Nadzeya was brash, she was also cautious and, in many ways, guarded. The black clothes were sometimes just a mask. One that Olympe had slowly but surely broken her way through.

So she reached down and pressed her hand boldly underneath Nadzeya’s skirt, making her gasp—which in turn made her clasp her hands over her mouth and look over at where people were working busily behind the partition. Closing her eyes briefly, she laughed under her breath.

“I love this idea. Distract me, Olympe.”

“Maybe you should do your makeup while we’re here,” Olympe whispered, moving her hand slowly. Nadzeya was wearing shorts underneath her skirt, which was very sensible. “You know, for expediency.”

“I would poke myself with my mascara,” Nadzeya replied. She leaned back on her hands on the table, her long hair falling back over her shoulders. Olympe smiled, and then sat down on the chair in front of her.

She ran both hands over Nadzeya’s thighs, swiping her thumbs down over the inside, brushing the heated fabric over her core. Nadzeya sighed, biting her lip as she looked down at Olympe. Slowly, Olympe pressed her hands up until she found the waistband of the shorts, and she hooked her fingers into it to tug.

With the shorts down around Nadzeya’s thighs, she leaned forward to press a kiss to the jut of her hip, while she ran her fingers softly over the front of the woman’s panties. She pressed between her legs, following the familiar shape of her vulva and running her fingertip over her concealed clit, which made Nadzeya twitch just a little. Smiling, Olympe took off her glasses to set them down on the table.

“Oh, I’m starting to like this more by the second,” Nadzeya whispered. She touched Olympe’s face, running her fingers over her lips, so she kissed them again.

Olympe could feel that the fabric of Nadzeya’s underwear was heated and getting slightly damp, and she didn’t want her to have to be uncomfortable putting it back on, so she pulled the underwear down to a soft gasp. Alright, that was really quite self-serving—now, Olympe could press her legs apart just slightly, as much as the clothes around her thighs would allow. She pulled back a little to get a good look, which made Nadzeya laugh under her breath. There was really no need, so Olympe could understand that. She knew exactly what Nadzeya looked like, and she knew exactly what she tasted like, but it was always good to be reminded.

So, leaning in again, Olympe pressed her lips to the smoothly-shaven skin of Nadzeya’s vulva, and dragged them down. Nadzeya leaned back on the table a little more, still touching her jaw while her tongue flicked out over her clit. The hand quickly retreated to be clasped over the woman’s mouth again, and Olympe smiled. She used her fingers to pull back the hooded skin over Nadzeya’s clit and flicked her tongue out again. She was going to be so relaxed going into this show.

With methodical movements, Olympe gently licked and sucked, running her other hand over Nadzeya’s thighs, brushing against her vulva. She licked down into the woman’s folds to a muffled moan and her legs trembling. Her own blouse was starting to feel quite warm, so Olympe used both hands to quickly undo some buttons, moving her mouth a little more messily against Nadzeya. When she brought one hand back up, she ran it along her thigh and then pressed it against the wet heat of her vagina. She looked up at Nadzeya, whose hand was clasped tightly over her mouth.

“Are you distracted yet?” she asked softly, licking her own lips.

“M-hm.” Nadzeya nodded, and then she muffled a sound that was probably a curse into her hand when Olympe pressed two fingers into her. She looked around as the table shook a little, but the sounds beyond the partition just kept going, unperturbed.

“Good, I’m happy to help.” Olympe ducked back down.

It was easy to lose herself in the movements, in the smell and taste of Nadzeya. Even absent the noises that would usually let her know whether she was doing a good job, Olympe had no doubt Nadzeya was liking it as her breath got heavier and her legs kept trembling intermittently. Olympe herself felt heated as well, but she left her clothes alone to instead bend her fingers inside Nadzeya, almost as if she were playing her harp. She moved them gently until Nadzeya muffled a groan and grabbed Olympe’s head as she arched back against the table. The woman didn’t pull, but her long fingers curled into Olympe’s braided hair as she continued to eat her out.

It was, to Olympe, impossible to tell how long it was before Nadzeya started to tremble just that much harder, before she started to squirm and her inner walls started to throb around Olympe’s fingers, but Olympe kept going with determination. On another day, preferably in a bed, she might draw it out, because she loved to see the normally so stoic woman slowly fall apart at her touch, but today, that wasn’t the intention. Today, she continued to lick her clit and finger her until Nadzeya breathed in sharply through her nose, muffled a moan into her hand, and tugged on Olympe’s hair as she was coming, and she kept going even then, delighted.

Eventually, Nadzeya pushed Olympe away, and Olympe licked her lips again as she looked up at her girlfriend. Her pale face had a beautiful flush, mostly hidden behind her hand, and her breathing was deep.

“Distracted?” Olympe asked her again, while she slowly pulled her fingers out of her. As Nadzeya was removing her hand to reply, she pushed the fingers into her own mouth, and Nadzeya immediately clasped her hand back over her mouth to muffle a moan. Olympe smiled. “Apologies.”

Nadzeya let go of her hair to run her own fingers over her wet clit, seemingly almost in wonder. She sighed when she finally removed her hand from her mouth.

“I’m distracted,” she whispered, “but I could use some more.”

“Hm?”

“Maybe you should help me do my makeup,” Nadzeya said, which wasn’t what Olympe was expecting, but she was willing to go along with it and see where that led.

With some amusement, she watched Nadzeya use a paper towel to dry herself before pulling her underwear and shorts back up, and tugging Olympe out of the chair to take her place. Immediately, she was tugged sideways into the tall woman’s lap, and shushed when she yelped a little.

“I see how it is,” Olympe whispered, smiling when Nadzeya kissed her, licking into her mouth. When they parted, she reached for her glasses so she could actually see her this close up, and then reached for the makeup bag, tugging it closer. While Nadzeya ran her fingers over her thighs, up under her skirt—which, luckily, wasn’t a pencil skirt today—Olympe rummaged through the bag for some cleansing wipes to use on her own hand and also to run over Nadzeya’s still-flushed face. That made her roll her eyes, even as her long fingers brushed over the lacy fabric of Olympe’s underwear.

“I hope you don’t poke me with my mascara.”

“We’ll see.” Olympe might just leave that to her.

Nadzeya’s stage makeup wasn’t that different from her usual look, just a little bolder perhaps, and mostly involved a lot of eyeshadow. It was easy enough to get the initial steps done even with those fingers teasing over her core. Olympe didn’t do this often, but she always enjoyed the opportunity. She gasped softly when Nadzeya’s fingers wriggled underneath her underwear, tugging it to the side, while she was trying to apply primer to her eyelids.

“You have to stop smiling,” she just said, which only made Nadzeya smirk more, her eyes scrunching up further. It was an amazing look on her, but it did really make it more difficult to do her makeup. “Close your eyes.”

“Of course, whatever you say,” Nadzeya said dryly, but she did, even as she pressed one fingertip against Olympe’s clit, softly pushing.

Olympe couldn’t resist, as she took her girlfriend’s chin in hand to tilt her face to the lamp she’d flicked on, pressing a kiss to her lips. That actually made Nadzeya inhale sharply again, though her eyes remained closed, and her finger started rubbing tiny circles. Her other hand curved around Olympe’s waist, sometimes up to grab at her breast while she got the eyeshadow.

Concentrating, Olympe could almost ignore Nadzeya’s touch while she brushed powder over her eyelids. She only jerked her arm a little whenever her finger pressed down a little harder or changed its rhythm. Up so close, it seemed like far too much eyeshadow, but she knew it would look great, and very dramatic, from the crowd.

Two fingers now pressed against her clit, rubbing steadily, and Olympe couldn’t help a small moan, which made Nadzeya’s lips twitch.

The eyeshadow was finished, and Olympe said as much—and apparently, that was a cue for Nadzeya to start rubbing her with more purpose. She opened her eyes and leaned forward to kiss her, so that Olympe’s gasp was muffled into her mouth. The woman pulled her close. Olympe had been on edge for a while, and it didn’t take long before the purposeful touch of Nadzeya’s fingers tipped her over. She twitched in her lap, and felt her smirk as she moaned against her lips, heat rolling through her.

When Olympe pulled back to breathe properly, Nadzeya bit her own lip, eyes shining at her amid the dark eyeshadow.

“That’s an even better distraction,” she whispered, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Happy to help,” Olympe breathed again. She took a deep breath. Beyond the partition, people were still busily working; nobody had noticed what they were doing. Nadzeya’s fingers slowly stilled on her clit, though they still pressed down every now and then, just to make her twitch. “I can’t do your mascara like that.”

“I’ll do it,” she said, but didn’t move to grab the tube just yet. For now, they sat silently, faces tucked close together.

“I’ll be in the crowd,” Olympe said after a while.

“Don’t get caught in the mosh pit,” Nadzeya told her with some amusement. “I think they’d crush you.”

Olympe was not planning on it.

After a while longer, Nadzeya finally pulled her hand out from underneath her skirt, though she didn’t adjust Olympe’s underwear back, and reached for her mascara. While she applied it, Olympe also didn’t correct her underwear and re-applied her lip gloss. She kissed Nadzeya once, just before she stood up.

“Hey!” Nadzeya touched her lips, pretending to be affronted. She didn’t usually wear anything on her lips, but Olympe quite liked this shiny look on her. She raised her eyebrows innocently, adjusting her glasses.

“Nice makeup,” she said, and Nadzeya barked a laugh. Beyond the partition, someone’s footsteps stopped.

“Nadz? Is that you? Where’ve you been?” It was the bassist, calling out.

.

The first time Romania wandered into Bulgaria’s dreams, it was an accident.

They’d gone to sleep together at Romania’s house, and he guessed it was the proximity that did it. Not so much that of their bodies even, tangled together under the blankets as they were, but of their minds. They had talked a lot that evening, about everything and nothing, getting a little buzzed and soft around the edges out in Romania’s garden. Romania had had this whole plan about dragging Bulgaria up to his bedroom, now that they had some time off together, but in the end, they’d just kissed softly until they fell asleep.

And then, Romania blinked awake—or at least into some version of consciousness—in a place that felt unfamiliar.

His dreams generally weren’t like most people’s dreams. Some of his innate magic, whatever that power actually was, manifested itself in its sleep. Romania knew what to expect when he fell asleep. He’d shaped the space he always found himself in over centuries to be as comfortable to rest in as possible, and to dream up whatever he wanted, consciously or subconsciously.

And this wasn’t that place. Instead of the familiar halls and windows he’d constructed in his own head, he found himself in a house, though it was vague, hard to grasp. Was this how other people dreamed? It felt so fleeting.

Still, being a curious person, Romania wandered through the house and out into a yard that looked a little like his own, his real one. And he heard a sound. A familiar sound.

He poked his head around a tree on a corner of the winding path, and clapped a hand over his own mouth at the sight that greeted him. The sound, as he’d thought, had been Bulgaria. It was actually him, his consciousness or soul or whatever it was tugging at the bit of Romania’s mind that it always did.

So this was his dream, and that explained why he was currently laid on his back on a wrought iron table and being fucked hard by Romania himself, or at least a facsimile of him, dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing today. Bulgaria was completely nude, his legs up around the fake Romania’s shoulders, his hands gripping the table tightly, and he was hard, and gasping rhythmically.

Holy shit.

“I can do anything to you,” said the fake Romania, in Bulgarian with an accent Romania was sure wasn’t that pronounced in real life these days. When the dream version grinned, his teeth looked very sharp, and Bulgaria moaned wantonly.

Oh, wow, he had to be so far gone in real life to sound like that. This dream must really be doing it for him. It was, right now, also doing it for Romania, who had to adjust himself in his pants, his other hand still over his mouth.

This turned out to be a good thing when his doppelgänger spread his hands, and there were suddenly tendrils of light creeping around Bulgaria’s legs, spreading them. They wound around his chest as well, even coiling around his neck, and when the dream Romania moved his hands, they tightened and moved Bulgaria down on his cock. He shouted a warbled cry.

Holy fuck, that was hot. Romania had to muffle a shout of his own.

The doppelgänger’s smile was all fangs, and he suddenly wasn’t wearing his clothes anymore either. Romania was vaguely pleased that Bulgaria’s subconscious didn’t picture him as some kind of ripped porn star, just his regular rather thin self. With sharper teeth.

That was a new one, actually. Usually, the complaint was that his teeth were already too sharp, so this was nice.

The magic… Tentacles, let’s just call them what they were, were fully shoving Bulgaria back and forth, and the fake Romania’s eyes were practically glowing in their shimmery light, as was Bulgaria’s skin. Surely, both of them would have come already if this was possible in real life, especially since one of the tendrils was now wrapping around Bulgaria’s thick cock and seemingly just pulsating.

Another moan fell from the nation’s lips, this time in the form of Romania’s name. And that didn’t feel right, all of a sudden.

Romania couldn’t stop himself; he walked out into the little clearing.

Bulgaria, when he saw him, didn’t even seem surprised, just smiled with his gasping mouth, head turning on the table. Of course, in a dream, it would make perfect sense for there to be two of him, and a shiver ran down Romania’s spine as he thought of how he might’ve imagined that before. God, Bulgaria looked amazing, his cock wrapped in light and taking the fake Romania’s cock to the hilt, and he was obviously loving it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Romania said, a little shakily. He wasn’t sure what the best course of action was here, but he thought he should let him know… He gasped softly when Bulgaria tugged at his coat, then pressed his hand against his crotch, rocking. “Bul—wait. It’s me.”

“Yes,” he gasped, and the doppelgänger did too. Romania pushed his hand away.

“Look, I shouldn’t be here, it was an accident, but—”

“Romania,” Bulgaria said, nearly a whine.

“Hey.” He snapped his fingers. “This is a dream, Bulgaria.”

“What?”

“You’re dreaming. That’s not me.” Fuck, why were that guy’s teeth so sharp?

“But you…”

Suddenly, the facsimile and all that magic tendrils disappeared, melting into nothing. Bulgaria inhaled sharply.

“I’m confused,” he breathed. Still lying on the table, he let his legs drop off it.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Romania cleared his throat, unable to keep his eyes from wandering. “You, uh, you look very good like that. I didn’t mean to… Come in here.”

“In where?”

“Your dream.”

Frowning, Bulgaria sat up. He was still hard, and somewhat flushed, if much less than he would be in real life.

“I am dreaming,” he said, blinking. “But that means you’re a dream, too.”

“I’m not, I’m real.”

“That’s exactly what a dream would say.”

“Not if it’s your dream. Here, make me go away.”

Still frowning, Bulgaria looked hard at him. Nothing happened. Then, abruptly, he tugged at Romania’s coat again, and pressed their mouths together. Muffling a yelp, Romania kissed him deeply, fitting his hands around the man’s jaw.

“It’s me,” he reiterated.

“You feel different than…” As he pulled back, Bulgaria’s green eyes widened in shock. “You saw me—”

“I thought it was hot, Bul. You should see the thoughts I have about you sometimes.”

“Romania…”

“Look, maybe we can do something with this! We should talk about it when we’re awake.”

“Are—are you actually…”

“Real?” Romania nodded, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Again, didn’t mean to.”

“You interrupted,” Bulgaria mumbled.

“I did.” Heart thumping, Romania glanced down at his cock, which was still mostly hard. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Fuck,” Bulgaria breathed. “Yes, Ro, please.”

Romania got on his knees, his coat pooling around him, and wasted no time getting his mouth on Bulgaria’s dick. The man’s hips bucked, and he gasped.

“That’s different,” he gulped. “Fuck, that’s—you are really here—” And then he just groaned and panted and let Romania blow him messily, gripping the table still.

It wasn’t long at all before he came after a warning shout. Romania swallowed his release as he usually did, and as he was licking his cock, noticed that the garden was becoming blurry.

“You’re waking up,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”

After his next blink, he was finally in the familiar hall of his own dream, licking the taste of Bulgaria from his own slick lips.

.

When Romania woke up, Bulgaria wasn’t in bed with him anymore. Following the scent of coffee, he found the nation on his back terrace in the morning sunlight, drinking said coffee and reading a newspaper. He was murmuring under his breath as if trying to sound out the Romanian headlines. Romania smiled fondly, pausing in the doorway.

“Hey, Bul,” he said.

“Oh, good morning.”

“You sleep well?”

“M-hm.”

Maybe, he couldn’t recall. Though Romania always remembered his dreams, he knew that wasn’t actually common. He bit his lip, and Bulgaria raised his eyebrows while he lifted his coffee mug.

“So,” Romania said, “is tentacle sex a regular fantasy—”

Coffee sprayed over the newspaper, and Bulgaria started coughing. Romania hurried over to clap him on the back, which didn’t help.

“It—was—real!” Bulgaria hacked out between coughs. “You actually—oh my—hrk—fucking god, Romania.”

Romania kept awkwardly patting his back. He maybe should’ve thought ahead a little.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“How?”

“Magic,” he answered vaguely. “You alright?”

“Ro, you saw me having—having sex with…”

“Me,” he finished. “With slightly sharper teeth and some nice magic appendages.”

With a groan, Bulgaria rested his forehead on the wet newspaper.

“I thought it was hot! You shouldn’t be ashamed of your dreams. Really, do you get that one often? I’d love to try.”

“Not that often,” Bulgaria mumbled. And then, lifting his head, “Wait, what do you mean, try? Can you actually…”

His eyes went wide, and Romania shook his head.

“Not in real life, it’s not that kind of thing.”

“But… Oh.”

“Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Have you ever… Tried…”

“Only on myself.” Romania shrugged. “Maybe it won’t even work, I’d have to get you into my dream somehow to control it, but, fuck, Bul, you looked so fucking hot. I’m gonna dream about it anyway.”

“Oh, my god,” he whispered. “I’ve gotta be going crazy, but let’s do it.”

Romania bent down to kiss him hungrily, and ended up pressed down on the coffee-drenched newspaper while Bulgaria returned the favor from his dream.

.

That night, Romania blinked into consciousness in his own dreamscape, and set to trying to find Bulgaria. He knew how the other nation felt to him, and since they were close, and he was presumably at least subconsciously looking for Romania too, it should be doable.

First, he accidentally wished a dream version of Bulgaria into existence, which he willed away again. Not this time. Not when he could get the real thing.

Sitting cross-legged on top of the massive table in the hall, Romania eventually felt the pull of his real consciousness. Concentrating, he reached out with his magic interwoven through his mind, and tugged.

“Whoa, what the hell!”

Romania grinned.

“Where—oh! Ro, did it work?”

“I think it worked.”

Bulgaria was now standing there in the boxershorts he’d worn to bed, which probably meant that was what he imagined himself in during his previous dream. His green gaze swept over Romania as he hopped off the table, and he swallowed.

“You look nice.”

Still grinning, Romania made his coat flare out a little, for dramatic effect.

“Thought you might like it.” Nothing much usually changed about his outfit in here, the well-fitted dark red coat and knee-high boots, though, today, he had quite a dramatic standing collar that brushed his cheekbones.

“Well, I’m here now.” Bulgaria shuffled his bare feet on the ground.

“You are.”

The nation looked tense with anticipation as Romania came closer.

Echoing his doppelgänger, Romania said, “I could do anything to you.”

“Fuck,” Bulgaria breathed.

“I could be anyone. I could be you.”

“Let’s not do that,” he said hastily, alarm crossing his features, which made sense, coming from him. Romania smiled, making sure his teeth appeared a little sharper than they were, and Bulgaria made a tiny noise. “Now what?”

“Let’s start small,” said Romania, and kissed him.

Luckily, Bulgaria easily relaxed into it. He was running his hands over the lapels of Romania’s coat, tugging just a bit, and when Romania lightly bit his lower lip, as he often did, he muffled a moan.

“That’s different,” he mumbled.

“M-hm.”

“What else can you change?”

“Hm, how about this?” Using his magic, Romania ran his tongue over Bulgaria’s neck, but made it much quicker and lighter than it should be possible to, fluttering over his skin. Bulgaria made an encouraging noise, so Romania ducked further down, letting his tongue slide down to his nipple, which was, to his delight, still pierced in this dream world. That got him a curse, and Bulgaria once more tugging at his lapels.

He glanced up.

“Or, how about this?” Grinning lopsidedly, Romania pushed him over.

With a yelp, Bulgaria fell onto a bed that hadn’t been there before.

“Or do you prefer a table? We could go outside, even.”

“Shut up,” Bulgaria muttered, blushing, and Romania grinned.

“I’m just teasing, Bul.”

“Maybe another time.” Hell yes. “Where are we, anyway?”

“In my head.” Romania tugged him into a sitting position, and, once more, knelt between his legs. “I guess you could call this my mind palace.”

“Is that why it looks like a castle?” He laughed when Romania pointed a threatening finger up at him making his fingertip give off a tiny spark. “Do you have a dungeon?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Romania tugged at his underwear. “I was going to show you something cool, but if you’re just gonna insult me…” Despite his words, he pulled Bulgaria’s boxers down, and immediately grasped his interested cock.

“Oh! Mh, I’m sorry,” Bulgaria gasped, still looking amused. “Please show me.”

Again, Romania flicked his tongue out very quickly, which made Bulgaria gasp, but then, he ran it over his cock and let it start to wrap around slowly. Normally, there was no way that would work, but he made his tongue extend, wriggling it again the flushed shaft as it came to life under his touch.

“Oh, Jesus,” Bulgaria breathed. “That’s weird. Don’t stop.”

“Freak,” Romania tried to say, affectionately, but his mouth was a little busy, so he just rolled his eyes. Leaning up a little, he wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and let his tongue swirl around, coiling it all the way down. Looking up, he bared his teeth, and Bulgaria gasped even before they brushed his erection.

“I don’t think I’ve imagined that,” he breathed, leaning back on his hands. “Oh, Romania.”

It felt strange to Romania too, but good, and the sounds he was making were excellent. His own cock was stirring—he could probably do something weird with that as well, but that was definitely not starting small, so for now, he just pressed his own hand down over his crotch. For now, this was about Bulgaria.

Bulgaria was, in fact, trying to buck up into him, and Romania pulled his tongue back, looking up speculatively.

“What if you turned around?” he asked. Bulgaria blinked for a moment, then widened his eyes, and his cock twitched right in front of Romania, so he flicked his tongue out against it. “Or, actually…”

With his magic, he pushed Bulgaria to his back, and the man was immediately, eagerly raising his legs up.

“Is… I know this is a dream, but am I…”

“Clean? Of course.” There was no need to worry about things like that, and Romania demonstrated this by pressing his tongue to Bulgaria’s asshole—normal for now.

“Fuck!” Bulgaria shouted, wriggling on the bed. No matter how many times Romania did this, Bulgaria always loved it, and he, in turn, loved doing it. He’d never been able to make him come like this, but maybe here… He should give it a go.

Romania pressed the tip of his tongue into his hole, thrusting it to encouraging moans and a tremble in Bulgaria’s legs. Slowly, he pushed it further into him, letting the tip flick around inside and wriggling against the rim.

“Holy shit,” Bulgaria cursed, and Romania hummed.

After a while, with Bulgaria getting increasingly out of breath, Romania stood up. Bulgaria looked flushed, and his cock was leaking precum. Romania’s own cock was straining against his pants, so he undid the buttons, pushing the black fabric down while he kneeled on the bed and tugged Bulgaria back up to kiss him, pushing his tongue into his mouth. Groaning, Bulgaria sucked on it, making him twitch.

It was very easy to push his cock into him—given that Romania pulled on the threads of his dream to make himself slick—and Bulgaria just panted, a tremor running through him. His ass clenched around Romania, and clenched even more when he grinned and bit his neck.

This felt like an excellent dream, Romania thought, steadily thrusting into Bulgaria. That part was no different, and he reined in his tongue and teeth after a minute, to just kiss him normally. They breathed the same air, Romania’s coat covering both of them. Bulgaria reached down, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking in the same steady rhythm.

When he came, his ass clenched hard, and he gasped sharply, jolting underneath Romania. Romania groaned, fucking into him with more speed, hoping to catch up. Even in this place, his coat was starting to feel very hot, but he kept it on for now, liking the way it contrasted with Bulgaria’s skin. He leaned down to bite him again, his hips snapping until he came too, heat spiking through him.

He vanished his coat, and Bulgaria yelped comically. Romania snorted a laugh as he rested his forehead against the man’s heaving chest.

“You startled me!”

“That was what startled you?” Romania asked, somewhat breathless but amused. “You’re a strange man.”

“You’re a strange man.” Bulgaria pulled him up to kiss him, deeply.

“You love that about me,” Romania murmured. He didn’t get an answer, just a small, content smile that pulled at Bulgaria’s eyes, and then a hitch in his breath as he pulled his cock out of him slowly. He started to say something else, but was alarmed when Bulgaria started to shimmer.

“Uh,” the nation said, and then vanished.

“You need to become a deeper sleeper!” Romania shouted into the space he left behind.

.

“Seriously, I had more ideas!” he told Bulgaria, the next day, as they were out in the countryside.

“I can’t help when I wake up!” Bulgaria replied defensively. “Take it as a compliment!”

Huffing, Romania decided he would do that, but he still thought he was too light a sleeper.

They had, in the morning, woken up together, and had some great morning sex, which might’ve happened anyway, but there was definitely a new layer to it. While Bulgaria was in the shower, and then on the phone with his boss, promising to come back tomorrow, Romania had reflected on the trust placed in him. Bulgaria didn’t tend to trust easily, not like him, and it hadn’t even come up.

Remembering that, he smiled, which seemed to annoy Bulgaria, who stomped off into the woods. Romania laughed after him.

Before they went to sleep, he told Bulgaria to at least try to imagine some nice clothes on himself.

“What difference does it make?” Bulgaria asked, tugging his T-shirt off.

“I wanna rip them off you. I never get to do that in real life.” Romania grinned when that made him pause.

“Alright, I’ll try.”

.

Bulgaria was quite pleased that he managed to be pulled into Romania’s dream wearing a nice suit. It looked like one he’d had back in the eighties, and Romania laughed when he saw it, but that was fine, he did that a lot.

It felt familiar, being here, in the same way that being in Romania’s house felt familiar. Even when he moved to another part of his land, whenever Bulgaria visited, it felt the same these days. And this dream castle magnified that feeling even more.

Dream castle. How the fuck was this his life?

“Well, I hope you don’t wake up too soon this time,” Romania was saying. “I have plans, Bulgaria.”

He was, for some reason, standing on top of the massive table in the castle hall, again in his nice coat and boots, with half his hair pulled back into a little ponytail.

“Well, it’s your dream,” Bulgaria told him. “I’m yours to take.”

“That’s…” Romania licked his lips, and stepped off the table. He gently floated to the flagstone floor, coat fanning out around him, and landed in front of Bulgaria, well in his space. He smelled the same as he always did. “I wanted to ask. Was there a particular fantasy attached to that dream you were having? A scenario?”

Bulgaria ducked his head, feeling a blush creep up. It was still embarrassing even if it’d led to this.

“No,” he mumbled. “Just… When you do your magic things, sometimes, my mind runs with it.”

Romania hummed, running his fingers over the front of his suit and leaning further into his space. When Bulgaria looked back up, he pressed their lips together, and his tongue—which was normal now—swept into his mouth. Bulgaria tilted his head and met his movements, grabbing his coat in turn, running his hands up to his high collar and then down underneath the red fabric to pull Romania closer. One of the man’s hands tangled in his hair when he leaned down to press kisses along his sharp jaw, licking the warm skin and grazing his neck with his teeth.

That went both ways, even if Bulgaria’s teeth were less sharp.

Romania moaned softly when Bulgaria sucked a kiss into his neck, pulling him closer by his hair. At the same time, though, Bulgaria felt something creeping underneath his jacket, something that felt warm and solid, but Romania’s hands were both accounted for so it had to be some of his magic. He couldn’t help a small gasp escaping him.

“Can you feel that?” he mumbled against Romania’s neck, curiously.

“Yes, sort of. It’s faint.” He was poking his tongue between his teeth, grinning while one of the magic hands or whatever they were grabbed Bulgaria’s ass and pushed them closer together. Both of them were getting hard, and their clothed cocks slid against one another. “I can definitely feel that.”

“You’d hope so,” Bulgaria said dryly, laughing when Romania tugged at his hair. “You have a different definition of ripping things off than I do, Ro.”

“I’ll get there.”

They continued to make out and rock against each other with little apparent urgency, though Bulgaria felt a buzz under his skin that he was sure was echoed by Romania. Something anticipatory. He was almost certain he felt an actual spark leap from Romania’s fingers at one point, and the magic hands kept roaming under his jacket and over his ass, helping to rock his hips.

In a sudden movement, Romania pushed Bulgaria away. He only remained upright because the magic force at his back stopped him from falling, and then, as he widened his eyes, he felt more of the magic creep underneath his clothes. It felt different from when he had imagined it, but somehow also familiar, and Bulgaria waited excitedly to see what would happen when the force started to push outward.

What started with tears at the seams quickly turned into scraps of fabric flying away, and Bulgaria letting out a surprised sound, now naked. He was hard, his cock bobbing as he stumbled a little. At least until Romania made a tendril of magic curl around it, having it pulse and shimmer just like the dream version of him had done. It felt strange but amazing, familiar but new.

“Oh, fuck,” Bulgaria gasped, looking down at it, and then back up at Romania as he hopped up on the table and sat on the edge. He could feel a flush spread across his face. While the magic hands again squeezed Bulgaria’s ass, Romania licked his lips and jerked his chin, so he slowly walked over to him. Despite the fact that the floor was made of flagstones, it was pleasantly warm beneath his bare feet.

“That’s a good fucking look on you,” Romania told him. And, touching his jaw softly, “Undress me.”

Catching his breath, Bulgaria eagerly started to do just that. He stepped between Romania’s legs and leaned up to kiss him while he pushed at his coat, getting it off his shoulders. He wasn’t sure where it went after that, but that didn’t matter, because he got his hands on his pants next. The fabric was slippery, catching on Bulgaria’s callused fingers while he worked on the buttons, and he could see Romania straining against it.

When he opened the fly, the coils around his own erection tightened slightly, making him twitch as he pulled Romania’s cock out—he wasn’t wearing underwear, of course. Bulgaria only managed to pull the pants down a little before they disappeared altogether.

“That’d be useful in real life,” he said, and Romania laughed breathlessly.

“You knew I’d abuse my power if I could do that.”

“Maybe I’d want you to.” Bulgaria ran one slightly shaky finger up his cock and further up to start on the buttons of his black shirt, and Romania just leaned back while he did that. The magic hands felt exactly as he would, running restlessly over Bulgaria’s body, carding through his hair.

The light outside the windows of the dream castle was the bright orange of a sunset, and it cast sharp shadows on Romania’s pale skin as it was revealed.

When all the buttons were open, Romania shrugged the shirt off, and then started scooting further back on the table. Bulgaria tried to follow, but before he could climb on, he experienced a strange sensation, getting heavy and weightless at the same time, and he lifted off the ground. He yelped, flailing a little, but Romania grabbed his arms and pulled him over as though through water. He was floating, just above the surface of the table.

Romania sat on his knees to kiss him, and grinned when they parted, vivid red eyes flicking over Bulgaria’s body.

“Mine to take, is it?” he asked, surprisingly softly.

“I guess that’s… The main fantasy,” Bulgaria admitted. He rested his forehead against the nation’s shoulder, breathing hard. The tendril of magic around his cock was pulsating steadily, not tight or fast enough to make him come but keeping him on the edge of something more.

“That’s really hot,” Romania said in a faintly awed tone of voice. “That’s a lot of…”

Instead of finishing his sentence, he raised his hands, and Bulgaria rose further into the air, until he suddenly flipped over and dropped back like he was on a rollercoaster.

“Ro! You—fuck!”

Romania was pushing his floating legs apart, and while he leaned between them, more tendrils of magic wrapped around them, just like in the dream Bulgaria had been having. It sent shivers of heat down his spine when the tendrils tugged at his knees, raising his legs up, and he didn’t notice that Romania had leaned close enough to run his tongue over the base of his wrapped cock. He shouted in surprise, then moaned when his tongue ran over his balls. It was hard to say whether it was his normal tongue or if he was making it do weird things again—it felt fucking great either way.

Bulgaria let his head fall back on a moan when Romania’s teeth grazed his sac, hearing him chuckle.

“Hm, that’s nice,” Romania mumbled, and Bulgaria was being spun around so his head was facing towards him now, tilting back. He saw what was happening when the nation rose up on his knees. Breath hitching, Bulgaria reached over his head for his cock. He wrapped his hand around it while more magic wrapped, in turn, around his chest. It was warm, slightly tingly, and when it flicked over his pierced nipples, he couldn’t help his legs twitching in their bindings.

Just like he thought, Romania shuffled closer. Bulgaria looked up at him, upside down, and met his eye. He nodded, and Romania bit his lip as he opened his mouth.

While he was being floated diagonally and fondled by magic, Bulgaria took Romania’s cock in his mouth upside-down. They’d done that bit in real life; he hadn’t been very good at it, but enjoyed the sensation, and he did now, groaning around Romania. The man didn’t thrust deep into his mouth, probably remembering how that other time had ended, but moaned all the same while Bulgaria tried to move his head. And all the while, the steady pulsing pressure around his cock remained.

It was hard to tell what was the magic and what was Romania’s fingers, but something twisted his nipples and scratched down his sides, and his legs were being spread even wider, leaving Bulgaria feeling extremely exposed in a way that made him shiver and moan. He tried to push back against the magic tendrils experimentally, and they didn’t budge.

When something pressed against his asshole, he gasped, letting Romania slip out of his mouth, though keeping his hand around him.

“Is that—”

Romania showed him both of his hands, unoccupied, and grinned sharply.

“Oh, Jesus.”

The magic braced him, just a single thin tendril slipping into his ass and swirling around the rim, and Bulgaria moaned, pressing his lips back against Romania’s cock but not taking it inside.

“Wow,” Romania breathed, and then, Bulgaria was being turned once more, only just managing not to instinctively hold on to Romania’s dick as he went.

He was now almost upright, legs spread, and Romania was watching intently, his eyes glowing, while shimmering magic thrust into his ass. It felt immediately overwhelming, making Bulgaria pant, writhing in the magic’s grasp.

“That looks fucking incredible,” Romania said, voice catching, “Holy shit, Bul. I should make you come like this.”

That would be—that would be humiliating in a way that sounded absolutely amazing to Bulgaria, who stuttered an encouraging moan, and then tensed with abrupt heat when the coils around his cock tightened a little and started to move, in time with the one now in his ass.

Romania still touched him, ran his nails over his legs and leaned over to tug at his nipples with those sharp teeth, run them over his heaving chest, but his magic was what was slowly growing thicker inside Bulgaria, thrusting steadily into his ass. It felt like it was going deeper with every stroke, and with the way it was curling, he wouldn’t be surprised if—

“Fuck!” he yelled, arching up when the tendril curled right against the most sensitive spot inside him. Romania grinned widely.

“Got it,” he said triumphantly, and the magic kept curling into it while he grasped Bulgaria’s chin, making him meet his eye as he shook.

It was getting quicker, sliding smoothly against the rim of his hole while somehow continually brushing against his prostate, almost vibrating, and the coils around his cock writhed and pulsed. Romania’s skin shimmered in the faint light of the magic. Bulgaria reached for him, pulling him close to mesh their mouth together with little finesse. The nation’s hands curled against his sides, their sharp nails dragging over his heated skin.

“Romania,” Bulgaria panted, ready to burst out of his skin at any second, he was so tense. “Ro, please—”

“What? You want more?”

“I don’t know, just—”

A tendril of magic thrust into his mouth, cutting him off. It felt smooth and tasted just like Romania but tingled against his tongue, and Bulgaria moaned around it, closing his eyes. God, the fucking picture he must make like this. He could feel his legs trembling and a coiling heat low in his belly.

“Christ,” Romania said. “You really are mine to take.”

Bulgaria came hard, shouting around the tendril in his mouth, which luckily didn’t care when he bit it on accident. He clenched down on the one in his ass, which kept mercilessly pulsing inside him even after the coils around his cock slid off. He held on to Romania with both hands, and was still doing that when he was suddenly floated down and being kissed deeply, with Romania murmuring against his lips between kisses.

The tendril dissolved very suddenly, leaving him clenching down on nothing, trying to catch his breath, but only for a moment before he was pulled further down, and Romania’s cock pushed into his ass instead.

Bulgaria let out a shout, and Romania echoed it, not even moving.

They sat—well, Romania sat, Bulgaria just sort of hung back against the magic holding him up, trying to breathe—for some time. Bulgaria was still trembling. His hands clenched on Romania’s narrow shoulders.

“Alright,” the man breathed eventually, and he leaned forward to lower Bulgaria to the table, which felt much softer than it appeared. He sat between his legs, his cock twitching inside Bulgaria, fingers fanning over his hips, one trailing over his cock and through the cum now trapped in the hair around it.

“Ro?”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he said, matter-of-factly, “and you’re gonna come again on my cock.”

“O-okay,” Bulgaria stuttered. Being a nation gave him an advantage in recovery time, and he knew he would be able to get hard again soon if the same rules applied in dreams.

He was glad he hadn’t woken up. That would’ve made for some very frustrated jacking off, no doubt.

Romania started to move slowly, thrusting his cock, which was slick with something, into his ass. Bulgaria still felt overstimulated, but he kind of liked it. Liked how he could feel every drag of his cock much more pronounced, not dulled by immediate arousal. He smiled back when Romania grinned widely.

All the magic around him had melted away for now, leaving just him and Romania on a table that might now be a bed, in a castle that didn’t exist, in the light of a fake sunset that picked out the gold in Romania’s brown hair.

Neither of them spoke, but Bulgaria gave little encouraging groans as Romania slightly increased his pace. His hands ran up over Bulgaria’s chest, raking through sweaty chest hair and pressing down on his nipples, rubbing both of them gently. It wasn’t very long before Bulgaria started to feel the familiar stirrings of arousal again—definitely less time than it would be in real life, which was absolutely fine by him, considering how good it felt slowly having his cock fill back up while Romania fucked into him.

He groaned, gripping Romania’s wrists. Romania grinned again, panting through his teeth. His hair, while still half pulled back, was as wispy as in real life, frizzy around his flushed face, and his pulse thundered under Bulgaria’s grip, just like Bulgaria’s own heart was loud and fast.

Romania shifted, leaning forward to kiss him while he snapped his hips sharply, driving his cock to the hilt into Bulgaria’s ass. He bit his neck, hard, and Bulgaria arched against him, cursing and stuttering his name. So Romania did it again. He dragged his teeth down to his collarbone and just sank them into the skin there, grinning up at Bulgaria until he just rested his forehead against his throat for a moment, panting.

Then, he sat back up, and got a fist around Bulgaria’s cock.

“Romania!” Bulgaria shouted. Already?

“Come on, Bul, you’re gonna come with me,” he panted, jerking in time with his now wild thrusts—Bulgaria felt that he was slightly floated off the table-maybe-bed again, just to give Romania easier access, which made him moan despite himself.

Bulgaria’s hands curled against the table, and all he could do was let himself be fucked, let Romania work his cock tightly while he gasped and tried to keep up. It was overwhelming and incredible.

There was a frisson of something, some sort of spark, against his cock, and Bulgaria shouted, knocking his feet against Romania’s back with a mixture of alarm and acute arousal rocketing through him. It happened again, and he couldn’t decide whether it felt painful or good or maybe both at once, so he shook his head wildly, and Romania did not do it again.

“Come on, Bulgaria,” the nation panted, eyes a wild iridescent red. “So fucking close, don’t leave me hanging, fuck.”

“Ro,” he breathed, almost a moan. “Romania, god—”

He moaned when Romania came, shouting and visibly sparking, his rhythm faltering as he spilled inside him, pulsing hot into his ass. His hand clenched around Bulgaria, then started moving with even more purpose. Fuck, he really wanted him to come again too. Bulgaria tried to relax and just let go, which was hard while he was still being fucked. Romania reached again for his chest with his other hand and harshly thumbed a nipple.

“You can do it,” he gasped. “Come for me, Bulgaria.”

Willing himself to untense, Bulgaria did just that. It wasn’t as hard an orgasm, but it rolled through him in a wave of heat nonetheless, and more cum sputtered over Romania’s hand as he groaned.

“That’s it,” Romania breathed. “Good.”

“Don’t—patronize me,” Bulgaria managed. He just laughed breathlessly.

After a moment, both coming down from that, Romania pulled out of his ass, and wiped his hand on his chest hair before running it up and grasping Bulgaria’s neck to pull him upright and into a slow kiss. Bulgaria slowly got on his knees while they kissed, glad to be able to close his legs again. He felt wrung out.

“Oh, good,” Romania said, looking down at his knees.

“What?” Bulgaria asked from where he was licking the sweat from the man’s neck, running his tongue over his pulse point.

“Use that somewhere else.”

At Bulgaria’s inquisitive hum, Romania pulled him back by his hair, and then pushed him down towards his cock, lying soft and wet between his legs.

“Ro.”

“What? I’m not done yet, you know.”

A sharp spike of heat ran through Bulgaria, followed by a tremor. He leaned down, taking his cock in hand. Hesitated.

“Romania?”

“What? Oh!” He smiled, gently squeezing the back of Bulgaria’s neck. “Clean as can be, Bul. Just some cum.”

Alright. He ducked down and licked his cock. Romania sighed deeply.

After a while, Romania shifted so he was the one spreading his legs around Bulgaria, leaning back on one hand with the other still gently running over his neck and through his hair, murmuring praise under his breath. And his cock was starting to stir again. Bulgaria gently sucked it to a pleased hum, so he continued that, taking him a little deeper now than when he’d been upside-down as the nation slowly got harder.

He jolted when something warm caressed his back, giving off the gentle buzz he now associated with Romania’s magic. The tendril followed his spine and slid between his ass cheeks, rubbing over his sensitive hole. Tensing, Bulgaria stuttered a moan.

“I think you should come once more,” Romania said.

“Ro…”

“I think you can do it. I’m gonna make you do it.”

Bulgaria rested his hot forehead against his thigh and shook lightly while the magic tendril teased at his ass. He’d never come three times in such quick succession and didn’t know whether he could, but it felt good.

“Romania?”

“Hm?”

“Could—could that be cooler?”

“What? The magic?” He smiled. “It could be anything, so yes.”

The tendril of magic quickly cooled down. It wasn’t cold but felt chilly, almost soothing against Bulgaria’s ass as it rubbed. That was nice. Bulgaria moaned softly against Romania’s thigh. He slid down a bit, curling his hands under Romania’s legs, and mouthed at his cock, at his balls and the soft skin around them, barely any hair on it.

When Romania leaned further back, raising his knees, Bulgaria decided to take that as a hint, and swept his tongue down. That got him a moan, and the cool magic sliding down to touch his own balls.

Almost as if in a trance, he continued to lick Romania’s ass, wrapping a hand loosely around his cock and looking up at him while he did so. He looked soft around the edges, yet still wild, and he bit his own tongue as he grinned down. Bulgaria thrust his tongue into him, finding it easy, and wasn’t surprised when that was the cue for the tendril of magic to slide into his ass. It wasn’t thin, now; instead, there were ridges to it like it was a dildo. Maybe a glass one, he thought disjointedly.

With a wet noise, Bulgaria licked his way back up to Romania’s cock while the magic slowly thrust in and out of him, stretching him with every ridge. More magic was running over his cock in an almost teasing way, just tapping, sometimes hot and sometimes cool.

Bulgaria didn’t even notice in his haze that he was actually getting hard again until Romania pulled him up and off him, kissed him, and then abruptly shoved him to his back again. He was surprised to find his cock springing up, and let out a warbled cry when Romania briefly leaned down just to swirl his tongue around the head, in a normal way.

“You’re gonna come again,” the nation said decisively, climbing up over him. The magic still moved inside Bulgaria, though its temperature was rising as if that was difficult to control.

“I don’t know if I can, Ro.”

“Absolutely, you can. This is a dream!” He settled over his hips, stroking his own cock, looking extremely flushed in the sunlight that should’ve been long gone at this point.

Bulgaria bit his lip through a moan when Romania just sank down on his cock without further preamble. It was overwhelming, the heat around him and the magic pulsing in his ass. He could only pant as Romania, once more, started to move, gripping his legs with sweaty hands.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fucking good,” Romania panted. “You’re gonna come inside me, Bul.”

“Fuck,” he grit out, hands clenching. He put his feet on the table but was too boneless to thrust up, but Romania didn’t seem bothered. He was riding him wildly, ass hot and tight around his overstimulated cock, wispy hair somehow loose and frizzing everywhere.

After a while, Romania started stroking his own cock as he moved, putting a hand on Bulgaria’s heaving chest for leverage—of course, rolling his nipple as he went. Bulgaria felt frustrated and hot, and his breaths were nearly sobs at this point. He dug his nails into Romania’s skin, which made him moan and clench around him.

The magic buzzed in Bulgaria’s ass, changing shape, changing direction, until it was curling merrily against his prostate again, vibrating. He cursed loudly, and Romania did the same.

“Come on, Bulgaria,” he encouraged. “Come on, come on, come on—” As he bounced hard on his cock.

“Jesus fuck—god—” Bulgaria couldn’t find any coherent sentences in his head. There was no way. There was no way, even in a dream.

Romania sank all the way down on his cock, shaking, and yelled as he came again, cum streaking into Bulgaria’s chest hair with the force of it. His ass clenched hard. Bulgaria sobbed a curse, his back arching in frustration. The magic felt like it was sparking inside him, buzzing through his whole body, as it tensed.

“Romania—” he gasped.

“Come on,” he said again, breathless.

“Fuck!” Bulgaria yelled, harshly thrusting his hips up just once, and coming almost painfully hard.

“Yes,” Romania hissed even as he pitched forward. “Fuck yes.”

It felt completely overwhelming; Bulgaria was sure he blacked out for a second as he tried to get some air into his lungs, and the fucking magic just kept pulsing and sparking inside him.

When he came to, he was trembling underneath Romania, and the magic finally stopped, falling away altogether. Romania was looking at him with something close to awe.

“Can you do that in real life?” he asked, eyes wide. They were their familiar dark red now, amid his flushed skin.

Bulgaria opened his mouth but couldn’t manage a coherent response, so he closed his eyes while Romania smiled. A kiss was pressed to his slack mouth, and then he felt the nation rest his head against his shoulder.

“I think you can wake up now,” Romania murmured.

It was light outside when Bulgaria woke up, the sun shining directly into his face. Romania was sitting, cross-legged, on his side of the bed. He smiled softly when he spotted that Bulgaria was awake.

He felt paradoxically well-rested, if kind of horny. Stretching, Bulgaria folded his arms behind his head.

“I have a question,” he told Romania.

“Yes?” He leaned towards him. His hair was much less of a mess than it’d been in his dream.

“What, exactly, could your magic do out here?”

“Oh! I’m glad you asked.” He pulled a whole deck of cards from absolutely nowhere and fanned them out. “Pick a card!”

Bulgaria blinked up at his bright grin and sparkling eyes, and snorted.

“I hate you.” He picked a card.

.

By the time Belarus finally lets Lithuania put his dick inside her, she’s already come twice.

First, when they were barely through the door, he worked his fingers underneath her skirt while they kissed messily, his other hand tangling in her hair. She was already worked up, then, having spent the whole walk from the conference center to his house imagining how she’d get him on his knees with his face between her legs. Lithuania looks great on his knees, she thinks, and he’s often so eager to do what she wants.

It would probably get annoying if he weren’t so earnest about it—or, of course, if he weren’t actually fucking good in bed. Belarus has come to appreciate over time that he actually seems to like her as a person, which is more than she can say for most people. They’re not dating, and the whole concept of that seems laughable to her, but they’re something that works.

So she came on his fingers, pressed against a table with both of their clothes still on, gasping into his mouth and with her sharp nails digging into his back.

Second, he used his mouth.

They stumbled to his bedroom, and he tried to tug her clothes off but instead, she made him sit down and watch while she did it herself. She stepped between his legs to let him touch her, and Lithuania got his mouth on her neck, on her breasts and trailing down her stomach, got his hands on her damp thighs. He obligingly lifted his arms when Belarus tugged at his sweater and let her remove it.

When she lay down on the edge of his bed, he slid down between her legs, and she pulled him close, twisting her hands into his long hair. She enjoyed tugging on it, directing him. He ate her out, then, with that patient, clever tongue of his, as diligently as he does anything.

He fingered her while he licked her clit methodically, looking very hot, and Belarus was pleased to see that, though he was visibly straining against his slacks, he didn’t touch himself. That meant that this was one of those times when he would really do whatever she said, and nothing else.

He isn’t always like that—and would be much less interesting if he were—but she’s learned to take advantage of the times that he is.

So she just kept him there, licking and fingering her wet cunt until she came again, her second orgasm a slower wave of pleasure than the first, a trembling thing that swept over her hotly.

Now, Lithuania rests his head against her thigh, panting with two fingers still inside her as she throbs around them. She looks down her body at him, carding her fingers through his hair.

“Come up here,” she says, voice hoarse. “You’re gonna fuck me until I come again.”

“Shit,” he breathes, and stands up. Before he can actually get on the bed, Belarus sits up and reaches for his pants.

As expected, he’s hard as a fucking rock, thick cock already leaking precum. It feels good that she’s barely touched him yet he’s like that, that just getting her off, having her arousal soaking his chin, is keeping him on edge. Belarus smirks up at him, and Lithuania swallows her hard, licking his wet lips. She doesn’t touch his cock.

He crawls up over her when she falls back on his bed, kissing her with lips that taste like herself.

“You gonna fuck me?” she asks, as she maneuvers her legs out from between his and around him instead. The head of his cock nudges her cunt, slipping over her clit, and just that light touch makes her jerk, still sensitive. “Actually.”

She pushes him off her and to his back, and then rolls with him to straddle his hips. Lithuania’s chest is heaving, and his hair spreads messily on his pillow. He reaches for her, and she pulls his hands up to her breasts, biting her lip when he rubs at her sensitive nipples. While he does that, she slides down, and rubs herself on his cock. She doesn’t take him inside, just lets his hot length slip between her folds, catching on her clit and making her gasp while he swears, pinching her breasts.

“I could fucking make you come like this,” Belarus says.

“That’s—mh—that’s okay,” he replies, voice trembling as he obviously tries not to buck his hips.

For a while, she continues to just idly undulate her hips, feeling a slow crest of new arousal building up inside her, and she knows the next orgasm will be the most intense one yet. She imagines milking his cock by clenching around him, and moans softly.

So she slides forward, reaching for his cock behind herself to raise it up a bit, and then leans forward so that when she presses back, he slides straight into her. She curses at the heat of him, at the feeling of fullness as he stretches her cunt deliciously. This time, his hips do buck, and she gasps as he drives further inside.

“Belarus,” he says, meeting her eye. Now leaning forward, her blond hair spills down around both of their faces like a curtain, and he’s grabbing her ass with trembling fingers.

“Come on, fuck me,” she orders, and he snaps his hips up again. “That’s fucking it, Lithuania, take me like you mean it.”

He wraps his arms around her, puts his feet on the mattress, and does exactly that. His cock slams into her hard, and she moves back against it, crying out involuntarily every time he bottoms out, her ass hitting his hips. His bed creaks.

Belarus tries to kiss him, but is rocking back and forth far too much to do so, and Lithuania, seemingly frustrated, suddenly rolls them back over. His cock slips out of her, but he grabs her legs, spreading them around him, and pushes back in immediately.

“Fuck!” Belarus yells, trying to get her hair out of her face. “Fuck, yes.”

When she can finally properly see him again, Lithuania looks wild, with his hair everywhere and sweat beading on his lean chest. It’s such a rare thing these days to see him like that, and Belarus thinks that’s a shame. He could be fucking anyone he wanted if they knew he looked like that.

His hands curve around her hips, canting them just so, and she spreads her legs further, relishing the feeling of his cock slamming into her, making her twitch and moan. She grabs her own breast this time, and reaches between her legs with her other hand. She knows Lithuania would touch her clit eventually, but she likes that he’s using all his energy to fuck her right now.

After a while, he grabs just one of her legs, pushing it straight up while pressing the other down.

Suddenly, he pulls completely out of her, and Belarus is worried for a moment that he will come like that, but then he plunges back into her immediately, and she just curses, her leg twitching against his body.

“Fuck,” she pants, and Lithuania is gasping, his fingers bruising on her hips, which means he must be far gone and is fucking excellent. “Come on, Lithuania—shit—fill me up. I wanna be—oh, fuck—”

He leans over and is too out of breath to kiss her but sucks hard on her breast, at which she yells, yanking at his hair, and she doesn’t even know whether it’s that or her own fingers that push her over the edge.

Just as she thought, her third orgasm hits like a freight train, making her cry out, her whole body going tense, and she clenches down hard on Lithuania, who lets out an almost desperate sound, sits back up, and barely a few seconds later, is coming too.

He holds almost still inside her, and she can feel the hot flood of his release filling her throbbing cunt as he gasps, fingers clenching on her hips. She moans, still rubbing her clit with harsh motions, her body shaking.

Lithuania stays inside her for a while, cock twitching, then pulls out and rubs it between her folds again, making her twitch with overstimulation. She pushes him away, and before he can start to be sheepish as he sometimes is, even in moments like these, she uses her legs over his shoulders to pull him down, then yanks at his hair again until he’s once more got his face between her legs.

“Mh, Belarus?” he stutters.

“Clean me up,” she says, sounding even more hoarse to her own ears, and then she can only moan and shudder while he does, swiping his tongue not over her clit but down, pressing his hands to her thighs to spread her apart and lick into her with obscene wet noises. His hair gets caught on her sweaty legs. He keeps glancing up at her with those green eyes of his gone very dark, yet hazy and Belarus can’t look away, though her eyes nearly fall shut.

Eventually, Lithuania’s movements slow, and though his mouth is still pressed against Belarus’s cunt, he doesn’t really move anymore, so she lets her body go lax, giving just a little tug on his hair. He takes that hint, slowly crawling up, leaning on one arm next to her with their bodies pressed together. Blearily, Belarus reaches up and swipes a thumb over his wet mouth, and then tugs at his jaw so he kisses her.

They both breathe deeply between kisses, which are now soft and short. She swipes his sweaty hair behind his ear, and he runs his fingers over her cheek, where she’s sure her makeup must have smudged horribly.

“I was going to make you dinner,” Lithuania mumbles.

“You can still do that.”

“Belarus, I don’t think I can stand.”

She smirks with satisfaction, which makes him laugh softly. When he lies down on his back, she allows herself to curl into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck and listening to his heartbeat. He won’t bring it up, she knows this; he tried once and had gotten the business end of her dagger in return. This is not that kind of thing, and even when it is, she doesn’t need that acknowledged.

“Maybe takeout,” she mumbles. “I’ll even go get it if you’re so overcome.”

Lithuania just hums, stroking her head absently. His heartbeat is steady.

.

After fifteen minutes waiting in Poland’s bedroom, Lithuania decides to go check what’s taking so long.

“Poland!” he calls, descending the stairs. “I thought you said you—what in the world are you doing?”

“Oh! I got a little caught up!” Poland says apologetically, as if he isn’t currently sitting on the floor surrounded by… By…

“You got caught up displaying your collection of sex toys?” Lithuania asks faintly. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised; there’s always something. At least this is better than the time he found two whole ponies in the kitchen. Of his house. They had eaten all his fruit.

“I had an idea,” Poland says. He climbs to his feet, taking one of his dildos with him when he comes up to Lithuania.

“I thought the idea was to… Have sex.” Lithuania has been looking forward to that, quite uncharacteristically. It’s been some time since they’ve taken the time to do it right, so now that he’s staying over here for a bit, he’ll admit he’s gotten himself quite worked up.

“Yeah, what does it look like this idea is about?” Poland laughs, waving the dildo around. It’s floppy, and rainbow colors, which would be charming if it weren’t a fake dick. “Don’t answer that. I’m trying to find the perfect dildo, Liet.”

“The perfect…”

“Yeah!” He points at him with the rainbow dick, the way he’d normally snap his fingers. His light green eyes are bright, scrunching up when he smiles.

“What…” Lithuania thinks for a moment about whether he actually wants to know the answer to the question he’s about to ask, staring into the middle distance while Poland picks up another dildo and starts to compare the two. “What’s the perfect dildo? Is this a—a sort of Cinderella situation?”

“No! Well, kind of?” The other dildo gets discarded. “I was just thinking the other day that, like, wouldn’t it be nice to have a toy that’s just like your cock? It could keep me company when we’re apart, you know?”

Lithuania blinks, trying to process that. He’d feel insulted about being reduced to just his dick, but he’s sure Poland doesn’t mean it that way, and he supposes he gets the sentiment. Even if it’ll never feel the same, it certainly would up the fantasy when they can’t be together for a while.

“That one’s too small,” he says in the end, and Poland grins, flopping it around.

“I know, Liet. Believe me, I know. This one might be more like me.” He holds it in front of his crotch, looking down appraisingly. “Anyway, you want to help me out? Much easier to compare to the real thing.”

It’s a little embarrassing that Lithuania can actually feel his cock stir again—he’d been almost hard before he spent all that time just waiting around, and his body is obviously still raring to go.

“Oh, alright,” he says, quasi-exasperated, laughing when Poland throws his arms around his neck, knocking the rainbow dildo against the back of his head. “But not in the living room.”

“Of course. Totally reasonable.”

They haul the collection of dildos, which must have been accumulated over years and years, upstairs into the bedroom, dumping them on one half of Poland’s ridiculously large bed. Lithuania is sure he’s seen some of the toys before, watched Poland work at least two into himself on different occasions, but many are new to him. Some of them would probably qualify as antiques, and he hopes they were kept well.

“Alright!” Poland claps his hands excitedly. “Take off your clothes!”

“Poland…”

“Okay, wait, I’ll do it. You look nice, Liet.” He flutters his hands over the front of his shirt as he’s wont to, and then embraces him once more, pulling him close until their noses touch. With a smile, Lithuania slides his hands around Poland’s waist and tilts his head to kiss him. Their tongues immediately meet, a slightly frantic edge to it that’s very welcome right now. He can feel, when they press closer, that Poland’s cock is already taking an interest in the proceedings.

Well, he must have been sitting there for a while thinking about Lithuania’s dick. That’s a nice thought, actually.

Poland’s hands sweep through his hair, twisting the long strands away from Lithuania’s face to look at him with a bright grin. Their hips press together, and Lithuania nudges his fingers underneath Poland’s shirt to push it up.

“If we find one that matches you, can I have it?” he jokes.

“Great idea!” Poland lifts his arms so Lithuania can tug his shirt off, quickly shaking his thin hair back into place afterward and then going for his shirt in turn. “Ooh, we could try video sex!”

“I’m not doing that again.”

“You’re such a spoilsport.” But he kisses him again, fitting his fingers along the ridges of his ribs and sliding them back up along his back, curving into him.

It doesn’t take long before he wriggles and tells Lithuania to take his pants off, which is fine by him this time because Poland does as well. Then, the nation’s thin fingers hook into his underwear, and Lithuania looks fondly at the way he licks his lips as he tugs them down. He’s not quite hard yet, but that look on Poland’s face makes him perk up a little more.

“Okay, lie down. No, sit down.” He pushes lightly, so Lithuania sits on the edge of the bed. The way Poland slides his own underwear—very plain, for him—off is almost absentminded, as if it doesn’t matter that he’s naked now, that his half-hard cock is bobbing when he flings the last scrap of fabric away and puts his hands on his hips. It definitely matters to Lithuania, who greedily looks his fill while Poland does the same.

After a moment, Poland leans over to kiss him again, his light hair falling around both of their faces, tickling Lithuania’s cheeks.

“Actually, do lie down,” he says, which makes Lithuania laugh.

They both get fully up on the bed, Poland kneeling and gazing at his dildo collection, lips pursed in thought. Lithuania takes the opportunity to get comfortable, sitting and taking his cock in hand to jerk it slowly. When Poland spots him doing that, he grins again and shuffles closer, sitting between Lithuania’s legs and just looking down at his hand around himself, gently pressing on his thighs.

“Poland,” Lithuania says.

“I’m getting, like, measurements.”

“Sure.”

Without warning, one of his hands wraps over Lithuania’s, and he leans forward to press their mouths together again. Their tongues tangle lazily as they work him slowly to hardness together.

“Maybe I should actually get measurements,” Poland mumbles against his lips. He pulls back, looking contemplatively down, but shakes his head. “I’ll know.”

“Good,” Lithuania says, and reaches for his cock. They sit there just slowly working each other for a minute before Poland reaches over and pulls the rainbow dildo back out of the pile.

“Here.” He nudges Lithuania’s hand with it, so he obligingly wraps his fingers around the vinyl. It’s still very floppy, doesn’t feel much like a hard cock at all, really.

Lithuania shakes his head, and that gets the dildo thrown off the bed altogether, which… Sure.

“Okay, I was thinking of, hmm…” Poland turns to his dildos, sorting through them while he presses a hand to Lithuania’s chest, stroking. “There it is! This one.”

“Okay, I think that one might be too big,” Lithuania tells him. That’s… A little intimidating, especially since it’s pretty realistic. He can help but laugh helplessly when Poland holds the thing up next to his cock. He knows he’s bigger than one would guess, but he’s nowhere near that massive. “Do you…”

“Use this?” Poland grins, quirks his eyebrows, and doesn’t reply, just tosses that one away too. That’s… Impressive.

Again without warning, Poland suddenly ducks down and presses his tongue flat to Lithuania’s cock, wriggling it around as he gasps.

“Measurements,” he says with a cheeky glance up, giving him little licks. “Yes, I see…” His lips stretch around Lithuania’s cock, and the wet heat of his mouth shoots through his body.

Lithuania groans softly. Those are some thorough measurements.

Abruptly—the way many things about Poland are often abrupt—the heat is gone again, and Poland is back to sorting through the dildo collection. He pulls a slightly smaller one out, luckily less realistic and a bright shade of pink, and presses it to his lips.

“Should you be doing that?” Lithuania asks him. That’s not very hygienic.

Poland rolls his eyes, saying, “What’s it gonna do, make me sick? I’m not human.” He stretches his lips around the toy, and that looks somehow even hotter than when he had Lithuania’s actual cock in his mouth—probably because Lithuania can see all of him now, his hard cock swaying between his legs as he crawls over using one hand, which he then wraps around Lithuania again. He closes his eyes briefly, sucking on the dildo, and then he leans down and switches it out for his cock.

“Oh!” Lithuania tries not to buck into his mouth, throwing his head back. “Oh, Poland…”

“This is very close,” the nation says, a little out of breath as he tries the dildo again. “Almost perfect.”

That one doesn’t get tossed off the bed. In fact, he continues alternating sucking the toy and Lithuania’s cock for a while longer, seemingly liking the way Lithuania reacts. There is no reason that should be that hot.

“Of course,” he eventually says, “the real test is how it feels in my ass.”

“Of course,” Lithuania agrees, a little strangled. Poland narrows his eyes at him, setting the dildo on the nightstand.

“Maybe you should have a go, Liet.”

“Okay,” he breathes. Then glances at the dildo pile, a little intimidated. “Any suggestions?”

With a laugh, Poland pulls a toy out, again a pretty realistic one, but it’s less disturbing when it’s a normal size.

“I actually really like this one,” he says almost fondly.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Lithuania takes the dildo from him, and simultaneously grasps for his cock with the other. They do feel similar, he thinks, at least in girth. Obviously, there is none of the heat or the frantic pulse in the dildo, no movement when Poland’s hips jerk a little. “I’m not putting this in my mouth, do you have any lube?”

“Do I have any lube!” Poland exclaims. “Does the earth revolve around the sun?”

“You don’t have to be sassy about it.” Lithuania squeezes his dick a little, making him gasp while he hands the lube over. He smiles and gets some in both hands, continuing to stroke both the real and fake cock before him. Being ambidextrous has its uses; this isn’t one that’s come up before.

Not when one of the cocks is fake, anyway.

“And?”

“I think you’d enjoy taking yourself,” Lithuania tells him. Especially now, with the dildo warming up in his grip and the slide easy, there is little difference.

“Maybe you would too,” Poland replies, glancing over at the pink dildo, and Lithuania’s heart thuds.

“Maybe,” he agrees. “I get why you like this one.”

“Oh, is that a compliment?” Lithe chest heaving, Poland leans close and asks, “You want a comparison too?”

Slowly, Lithuania nods, his cock twitching eagerly. He’s specifically been looking forward to being fucked, this time; he gets these moods sometimes where he really craves a cock inside him. Or a dildo, apparently.

“Okay, okay,” Poland is saying, fumbling with the lube. “Here, I think you should do yourself, and I’ll do me.” He’s already pushing his fingers into himself before he’s even finished speaking, leaning back on one hand with his legs spread. Groaning at the sight of him, Lithuania is content to follow this example.

They sit across from each other on the bed, fingering themselves, watching the other. Their legs touch, but nothing else does. Poland’s arm is trembling as it holds him up, and he’s panting, moaning when Lithuania twists his own fingers and works up to three into his own ass. There’s no way they can reach as far into him as even Poland’s fingers would, from this angle, but that’ll only make it more intense when he’s actually fucked in a bit.

In fact, it’s not long before Poland says, “I think th-that’s enough for you.” He’s got four thin fingers inside himself, his hole stretching around them obscenely. Lithuania still only has three, but, yeah, that’ll be enough, he knows.

“Yes,” he breathes, and slides down a little more, opening his legs further when Poland shuffles between them. The nation leans over to kiss him, which Lithuania should probably mind after he had that dildo in his mouth, but he was right; no harm will come of it, and right now it doesn’t seem very important.

Not when Poland is poking his tongue out between his lips and nudging the dildo between his ass cheeks, gently holding his cock with one hand.

“You better pay close attention,” he mumbles, and presses forward. The head of the dildo slips into Lithuania’s ass, and he gasps. It’s a very different feeling than his fingers, and it feels good when Poland steadily keeps pushing. The nation is still panting, his eyes gone dark as he watches the dildo press in, and Lithuania watches him in turn. It’s rare that he’s still in any way, and this focused concentration is always arousing to see.

Poland begins to move the dildo back and forth, each time thrusting it a little deeper inside him, and Lithuania moans, curling his toes against the sheets. He shudders when he pulls almost all the way out and then slowly presses back in. The dildo has some ridges that feel good sliding against the rim of his hole.

The next time Poland pulls the toy back, it’s all the way out, and in an instant, he’s taken its place.

“Fuck!” Lithuania shouts, jolting. Oh, that feels so different, hot and alive inside him, and Poland’s hips press his legs apart even more, it seems, slamming against him.

“Similar?” Poland pants. “Oh—Liet—”

“Not a fair comparison,” Lithuania replies, pulling at him. But Poland is drawing out and pushing the dildo back into him, and he shouts again.

“Oh, wow,” Poland says. “That’s really…”

Abruptly, of course, he grabs the pink dildo off the nightstand.

“I wanna try.”

He lets go of the dildo in Lithuania’s ass, so it slips mostly out, but Lithuania likes that the head is still inside him, wiggling around when he moves. Poland turns around, looking over his shoulder at Lithuania, shaking his hair out of his face. He pushes his fingers back into his ass while Lithuania pours lube on the dildo.

Pulling Poland closer so that his calves tuck under Lithuania’s thighs, Lithuania rubs the pads of his fingers over the man’s slick hole for a moment.

“Are you ready?” he asks, picking up the pink dildo.

“Duh,” Poland replies, wriggling his ass, and then moaning loudly when Lithuania presses the vinyl against him.

The toy is smooth, and Lithuania imagines it must feel nice sliding in. He goes slow, listening for Poland’s encouraging little mumbles as he drops his head to the mattress, which pushes his ass up even further. His back arches beautifully. Lithuania runs a hand over the dip of his spine, and can’t resist leaning forward and kissing his ass cheek as he watches the dildo slip in.

“Fuck yes,” Poland pants. “Oh, fuck me with that, Liet.”

Like he had done, Lithuania slowly speeds up, until he feels basically no resistance every time he thrusts the dildo. He almost forgets that they’re ostensibly comparing things here, but when he does, his hips jerk slightly, the dildo still inside him shifts, and he pulls out. Poland’s hole clenches, and he runs his fingers over it again, before pulling him into a kneeling position and down on his cock.

Poland curses and throws his head back so that he nearly hits Lithuania in the face.

“Oh, fuck, you’re right, that’s really, like really hard to compare, fuck,” he gasps, moving his hips. Lithuania can only groan in reply, hands clenching on Poland’s narrow hips.

Poland rocks against him for a while, almost riding him, until he suddenly gets up on his knees again and turns around, and before Lithuania can process what’s happening, he’s being fucked with the dildo again, frantically. He gasps for breath, squirming as it slides in and out of him.

“God, you look so good like that, Liet,” Poland pants. “So fucking good. I want you to take the other one.”

“Yes,” Lithuania replies instantly. It looked amazing in Poland’s ass and he wants to know if it feels just as good.

Before Poland gets to that, he pushes his hot cock into him again, leaning over him and kissing him while he thrusts. Lithuania winds his arms around him and cants his hips up eagerly, and also gets a mouthful of hair when Poland turns his head. His own hair must be a mess, he thinks, caught on the pillows. Even if they are Poland’s nice silk pillows.

“Okay, okay,” the nation is saying again. The pink dildo almost slithers out of his hand, and he giggles. Holds it next to his own cock. “Look at that, Liet. Now you’re gonna know why I like to be fucked by you.”

Hopefully, it’s not just about the size of his cock.

The dildo slips into his ass slowly, stretching him wider than before but not too wide at all. It feels full, though absolutely not in the way Poland’s cock would fill him. This is a more base feeling than that, and it makes Lithuania writhe on the sheets.

“You get it?” Poland asks.

“Hn, I get it, Pol, I get it,” he says. “Oh!”

Poland actually uses both hands to move the dildo, leaning over with his hair everywhere, pumping and mumbling that he looks incredible, that his cock is so good and it’s a shame he could never know, and Lithuania just pants and moans as heat crashes through him.

“I wanna see you do it,” Poland says, grabbing his hand, and then Lithuania is reaching around his own thigh and moves the dildo shakily while he watches, rapt. “Fucking hot. Look at you. Oh, I have an idea.”

“Another idea?” Lithuania asks, voice catching, and Poland rolls his eyes even as he kneels over his hips, batting his hand away again and reaching back somewhat awkwardly while he immediately sinks down on his cock.

He now actually rides him, and keeps the dildo inside his ass, moving it irregularly, but that’s okay, because Lithuania is already very close and having the heat of Poland’s ass surrounding him makes it very hard not to come immediately. He grasps for his cock.

“Now you’re fucking both of us,” Poland tells him, which is nonsense but somehow spikes through Lithuania’s body anyway. He works his cock while the man rides him, and it’s not long at all before they both come, almost at the same time somehow, both clenching down on the cock in their ass.

Poland arches his back when Lithuania comes inside him, his own come dribbling over Lithuania’s fingers. He shakes and trembles and presses the dildo deep inside him, making him twitch.

It’s all very frantic, and very hot, and Lithuania is very out of breath by the time Poland finally starts to ease the toy out of his ass, still reaching back, sitting on his cock. He clenches down on nothing when it’s gone, and Poland scrambles off him, abruptly, just to look at his ass, apparently. Lithuania resists the urge to clench his legs; he did the exact same thing earlier, after all.

“I think that’s a pretty perfect dildo,” Poland declares. “Although, of course, I think we’ll need to double-check later.”

“Sounds good,” Lithuania warbles, which makes Poland smile and lean over him. Lithuania uses one hand to push his hair behind his ear, belatedly realizing that was the one with all the come and lube. Oh, well, showers exist. He’s reached the blissful few minutes after sex where he manages not to worry about things.

Poland sits next to him on his knees and idly plays with his hair while Lithuania lies there, basking.

“Hey, Pol?” he mumbles.

“Hm?”

“You realize there are these things…” He flaps a hand vaguely. “Where you can make a mold of a penis and use it to cast a dildo.”

“What!” Almost immediately, he scrambles off. “I gotta check this out. Don’t go anywhere, Liet.”

That’s fine by Lithuania. That is absolutely fine.

.

“Are you ready!” Yong-soo throws open the door of the hotel room next to his, and ducks out of the way of the hairbrush that gets chucked at his head. “I’ll take that as a no!”

“Give me a minute,” Mei shouts irritably, and Yong-soo laughs, picking the brush up and throwing it back to her. While she finishes up whatever she’s doing, he checks himself out in the wardrobe mirror once more. He looks nice, he thinks. Festive enough for a New Year’s Eve party in his jacket, but not too formal. Mei has sprinkled some kind of glitter in his black hair, which he’d normally say is a bit much, but he’s pulling it off.

Just as he’s making finger guns at himself, Mei comes out.

“Oh my god, you dweeb. I’m going to pretend I don’t know you,” she says, stalking past him out the room and straight to the elevator. Grinning, Yong-soo follows.

It’s a short walk through the cold evening to the bar where the party is being held. They were lucky to get tickets again this year. Not because the venue is so wildly popular, even; it’s just a nice place with a good reputation when it comes to its pretty chill New Year’s Eve gathering.

They’ve shown up quite late, so it’s already busy inside, a hum of chatter and music and clinking glasses, the lights low throughout most of the space. A band is setting up on the small stage; no one Yong-soo knows, he thinks. Probably some locals. He travels a lot for work and has little time these days to keep up with the music scene of his hometown.

Mei drags him to the bar, orders him some mysterious cocktail, as she’s wont to do, and then promptly abandons him. As she’s also wont to do.

While Yong-soo is taking thoughtful sips of his cocktail, which is bright green but tastes very sweet, the band begins to play, and some of the crowd starts to move with more purpose, dancing to their music. Once he’s finished his drink after a couple of songs, Yong-soo joins them. Luckily, the band is good, playing what appears to be original rock songs as well as some covers that are happily sung along to whenever the frontwoman prompts it.

“You all will do great at karaoke later!” she says. “I’m sure I’ll take a spin as well, and I know Ed has been wanting to do a duet!”

The keyboardist, who must be Ed, waves his hands and shakes his head, and the singer laughs before launching into the next song.

Yong-soo hopes he can convince Mei to do karaoke with him, although he knows chances are slim.

In fact, when he finds Mei, talking to a woman he’s never seen before, she makes sure to tell him that he’s not even allowed to ask her.

“But we did such a great Paradise By The Dashboard Light,” he reminds her. That had been way back when they were in college.

“Absolutely not, that never happened. If you think there’s video of it, no there isn’t.”

The unknown woman laughs, and Yong-soo slinks off, leaving them to it. He chats to some people, happily asking about resolutions and getting recommendations on what to do around here when he says he plans to be home more this coming year.

The band—he never caught their name, which is too bad, because he would like to follow them on socials—eventually ends their set to enthusiastic applause, and then, it’s almost time for karaoke.

First, there’s a little quiz about the past year that Yong-soo utterly fails, but that’s fine, even if Mei pretends to be exasperated.

Many people are at least tipsy enough now that they think karaoke is a wonderful idea despite having no singing talent at all, which is really the best part of the whole thing. Yong-soo whistles between his fingers for a horrendous rendition of Defying Gravity and claps for the most out-of-tune version of Yellow Submarine ever, before he goes to put his name in.

Even if Mei won’t sing with him, he’s determined to do a duet, because he just thinks that’s funnier. Yong-soo knows he’s a good singer, but doing it this way means he either gets to attempt to sing two parts or he gets to sing, probably badly, with someone else, both of which he loves to do. He picks a current song, knowing it’s more likely someone will want to join him, and goes back to mingle and dance while keeping an eye on the announcement board.

The singer of the band does a very funny rendition of All Star with her nearly operatic voice, and a group of guys who are quite drunk make an extremely bad attempt at the YMCA, dance and all, before Yong-soo sees that he’s next. He excitedly hurries over.

While the drunk guys are stumbling off the little stage, he sees the singer of the band next to it, laughing and gesturing at the man next to her. He seems quite agitated, and she’s getting progressively more amused while she tries to direct him to the microphones, especially when the song is just started anyway.

Grinning, Yong-soo grabs both microphones and brings them over, holding one out. He realizes the man is the keyboardist from earlier.

“Iryna!” the man says exasperatedly, blushing, as she pushes at his shoulders. He grabs the microphone just as Yong-soo’s part starts. Well, the part that’s his now. Leaning into it, he sings directly at the keyboardist, making him blush more while the singer just laughs. He even holds out a hand, and the man finally laughs too, taking it briefly to be pulled on-stage and into the spotlight.

He’s—wow, he’s very tall, Yong-soo realizes, and his eyes are a very light sea green in these bright lights. They reflect in his glasses.

With all that protesting, Yong-soo expects the guy to sound horrible, but when he joins in for the first chorus, he’s actually good. Like, really good. The second verse is his, and he glances between Yong-soo and the scrolling text as he sings in a clear, confident voice.

They both know the chorus, and Yong-soo is now even more eager to lean into it, so he crowds a little closer and meets the man’s eye, grinning as they sing together. He’s still blushing but plays along; when Yong-soo dramatically clasps his hand over his heart during the bridge, he responds by throwing his hand to his forehead as if he’s about to swoon, and then he leans close for the last chorus.

When the song ends, they get just as enthusiastic an applause as the other acts had, and Yong-soo smiles at the keyboardist before bowing. He hears him laugh and do the same.

Putting the microphones back, the two of them walk off the little stage together.

“You’re really good!” Yong-soo tells the man, stopping.

“Thank you,” he replies, ducking his head and clasping the back of his neck. “So are you.”

“Thanks! But, really, why aren’t you the singer of your band?”

A shrug. “Why aren’t you a singer, you know?”

“Hey, who says I’m not?” Yong-soo replies, pleased. “Maybe I’m secretly a world-famous pop sensation.”

“Well, you have the looks for it,” the man says, and then those light eyes widen behind his glasses, and he blushes.

Yong-soo beams at him, saying, “I’m flattered! I’m Yong-soo, by the way. You’re Ed, right?”

While he shakes his hand, the man grimaces. “I prefer Eduard.”

Their hands are still clasped when Mei saunters into view.

“I can’t believe someone actually sang with you,” she says. “No offense.”

That last part at Eduard, who quickly retracts his hand. Yong-soo playfully glares at her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to,” she says, and off she goes again.

“Love you too, Mei!” Yong-soo shouts after her.

“Your… Girlfriend?” Eduard asks.

“Oh, not at all, and she’d be insulted you thought I was good enough for her.”

Eduard laughs softly, relaxing a little. He opens his mouth, eyes flitting over Yong-soo, who tries to smile encouragingly.

“Can I…” the man eventually starts. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’d love a drink!” Yong-soo beams, nodding. It’s not every day a handsome man both sings karaoke with him and gets him a drink.

He decides on a mocktail this time, while Eduard gets a honey beer, though he blinks a little when he hears what Yong-soo wants.

“I already had some drinks and I don’t actually wanna get drunk,” he explains. “What if there are, you know, further activities I plan to undertake?”

That makes Eduard laugh.

They sit on some barstools at the end of the bar, the keyboardist’s long legs knocking against the shiny wood. Yong-soo, who’s pretty tall too, shares a commiserating smile with him. He’s got nice hands too, Yong-soo notices when he lifts his beer to his lips. Long, elegant fingers, and he seems to be left-handed. He’s wearing a plain black button-down shirt, only the very top button open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He smiles at Yong-soo when he notices him looking, somehow at once shyly and a little coy.

“Are you from around here?” he asks.

“Yeah, born and raised,” Yong-soo replies. “Not around much, though, these days.”

“Ah, of course, your illustrious music career.”

“You can’t prove I’m not secretly a K-pop idol!” He laughs when Eduard nods appraisingly. “It’s not as interesting as all that, I’m afraid. Just sales. Are you from town?”

“Just moved here.”

“Yeah? It’s a nice place.”

“Maybe you could…”

“Show you around?” He leans close, smiling. “Sounds good.”

Someone is doing an absolutely horrific version of Barbie Girl now. Eduard glances over.

“Ah, our drummer escaped his supervision.”

The singer is actually joining in to do Ken’s parts, still nearly operatic.

“How’d you come to be in a band?” Yong-soo asks curiously. He seems very buttoned-up in many ways. Eduard laughs and launches into a story about wild college days and talent shows.

It’s easy to chat with him, leaning close together at the end of the bar. He blushes whenever Yong-soo makes a flirtatious comment but seems happy to return them in kind. They talk about music and what to do in town and get another drink each—more honey beer for Eduard and a ginger ale for Yong-soo, and by the time karaoke is finished and another band takes the stage to play covers, another button of Eduard’s shirt is undone and their legs are tucked together between their bar stools.

“What’s that taste like, anyway?” Yong-soo asks when Eduard takes another swallow of his beer.

“Mostly beer,” he says, somewhat dryly. He licks his lips. “Want a taste?”

Yong-soo looks at his mouth and imagines licking the taste out of it. He blinks. Shakes his head. Not in front of the whole bar. Eduard hums, lips quirking into a smile as if he can sense what he’s thinking. Yong-soo bites his own lip.

“What’s the time?” he asks, and Eduard checks his watch—which is on his right wrist and has little calculator buttons.

“About half past eleven.”

“How attached are you to New Year’s traditions?”

“You’re either…” He clears his throat. “You’re either asking for a New Year’s kiss or asking to get out of here.”

“Why not both?”

Another blush. “Both sounds pretty good, actually.” He swallows the last bit of his beer. “Both sounds… Let me go use the bathroom real quick.”

“I’ll wait here.” Yong-soo grins after him when he walks off, admiring his long-legged stride. He calls the bartender over to make sure the drinks are all paid for, and is told they are, so that’s nice.

“You’re aware he looks like a nerd, right?” Mei asks, appearing out of absolutely nowhere next to his seat and making him jump.

“I think he’s cute! Just because he wears glasses—”

“He’s got a bowl cut!”

“No, he doesn’t!” Maybe a bit, actually, but that doesn’t make him less handsome. If anything, it adds to the charm. Mei scoffs.

“Well, if you’re into nerdy white guys, I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Be safe, Yong. Call if you need me.”

“Of course.” He touches her shoulder. “Happy New Year, Mei.”

She stalks off, pointing a threatening finger all the way up at Eduard when he passes. He seems bemused.

“Alright,” he says to Yong-soo, who hops off his stool excitedly. “My coat is back with the band’s stuff, I assume yours is at the coat check?”

“I haven’t got a coat!”

“No coat? It’s freezing!”

Yong-soo trails after Eduard into a dimly lit backroom crammed mostly with random instruments.

“My fiery spirit keeps me warm,” he jokes, watching the man pull his coat on. “No, actually, my hotel is just a few doors down from here, it didn’t seem worth it.”

“Your hotel? I thought you lived in town.”

“I do, it’s just sort of… Tradition, at this point. Night out on the town and all that.” Yong-soo steps close and ghosts his hands over the front of Eduard’s nice woollen coat. “Maybe you can keep me warm.”

A laugh. “Of course.”

Eduard sways slightly towards Yong-soo, so he slides his hands underneath the man’s coat, curving his fingers around his warm waist. He looks up, meeting Eduard’s eye, and wets his lips.

“Very warm,” he declares, and then he’s delighted when Eduard leans down. He tilts his face up to meet his lips, their mouths sliding softly together first. Also warm. Eduard tilts his head a little, both hands sliding up Yong-soo’s arms until one comes to rest on the side of his neck. His thumb swipes over his jaw.

When they both pull back just slightly, Eduard smiles, before pressing forward again. His hand weaves through the short hair at the back of Yong-soo’s neck while he parts his lips to let him lick into his mouth. Their tongue slip together, and Yong-soo imagines he can taste that honey beer now, clinging to him. He pulls him close, curving into him, and feels Eduard gasp softly when their bodies press together.

The man’s lips are wet when they part again, and he probably flushed—it’s hard to tell in the low light.

“Wanna walk to the hotel?” Yong-soo asks. Licking his lips, Eduard nods.

They link their arms together as they exit the bar.

“Shit, it’s cold!” Yong-soo exclaims.

“Who knew?”

He pouts up at Eduard, who laughs, his breath coming out in a puff of vapor that briefly fogs up his glasses. Then, suddenly, he frowns.

“Hey, Yong-soo.”

“Hm?”

“I, uh, I don’t want to assume anything…”

“Assume away, especially if it’s about what’s about to happen.”

“Just… Do you have any condoms? Because I don’t.”

Yong-soo frowns, too, trying to remember what exactly he threw into his overnight bag.

“I might not,” he says slowly. “Also, that is a very good assumption to make, Eduard, I want you to know that.”

He laughs, then shuffles his feet. “So, uh.”

“Well.” They’re in front of the only building between the bar and the hotel entrance now; a small all-night store that’s even open on New Year’s Eve. They both look up at the neon sign, then at each other. The light reflects off the rim of Eduard’s glasses.

“That’s going to be awkward.”

“I’m sure they see it all the time,” Yong-soo says, and drags him in.

The condoms—and other paraphernalia, which reminds him to pick up some lube—are, of course, right near the register, which does make it a bit awkward, especially because no one else but the cashier is near there right now. Still, there is some pretty loud music playing, so it’s not awkward enough to prevent Yong-soo from pulling a box of extra large condoms off the shelf and holding it up with an impish grin.

“Just regular for me, thanks,” Eduard says. “I hope that’s not disappointing.”

“Not at all,” Yong-soo assures him. “It’s about what you do with it, right?”

He’s sure that last part is overheard by the cashier, who suddenly looks like she’s about to burst into laughter and tells them to have fun in a slightly strangled voice after ringing the items up. Eduard uses his phone to pay before Yong-soo can.

They both burst into giggles once back outside, hurrying to the hotel.

“This is a pretty nice place,” Eduard says as they enter the lobby.

“Well, it’s New Year’s Eve.” Yong-soo guides him to the elevator, which opens its doors immediately after he calls it. Inside, Eduard checks his watch.

“Only for a few minutes, now.”

“Don’t they say you should start the new year how you intend to spend it?”

“I’ve heard that,” Eduard says with amusement, and then easily bends down to kiss Yong-soo again.

He can’t help glancing in the mirror out of the corner of his eye, and thinks they look good together.

They make it to his hotel room just before midnight. By the start of the new year, they are on the bed with only the bedside lamp on, still fully clothed except for Eduard’s coat, making out with their bodies fully pressed together, Yong-soo mostly on top of Eduard. He gasps when the man pushes one knee up between his legs, and rolls his hips down in response, groaning eagerly.

“Happy New Year,” he says, with Eduard’s nice hands sliding up his back underneath his shirt and jacket, a little cold. He sits up on his knees to take the jacket off, flinging it away.

“Happy New Year.” Eduard watches avidly as he removes his shirt, too, licking his lips and then pressing a hand against Yong-soo’s chest. His fingers explore the muscles—which Yong-soo is pleased are being appreciated, he’s been working out this past year—even while Yong-soo starts to open more buttons of his shirt.

He presses both hands underneath the T-shirt he finds beneath the button-down to push it up, curiously following the lean lines of the man’s torso until Eduard sits up as well, and lets him push the button-down off his shoulders.

Outside, scattered fireworks are going off, red and blue filling the room while Eduard experimentally kisses Yong-soo’s neck, getting bolder when he moans encouragingly. He gently suck, hands sliding around to cup his jeans-clad ass.

“Mh, good,” Yong-soo mumbles, again rolling his hips down. The slow heat that’s been building for a while now is bubbling to the surface and his cock is starting to fill and press against the zipper of his jeans, so he’s pleased when Eduard’s hands move to his front.

“Can I?” he asks, fingers on his belt.

“Absolutely.” Yong-soo grins down at him, and then can’t help but kiss him again while he works the belt open, boldly tilting the man’s head back with his hands in his blond hair. He has to pull back when his jeans are opened, though, if just to look at Eduard’s long fingers tugging at the fabric.

“I think you’ll have to get up,” he mumbles.

“Some of me already is,” Yong-soo replies, which gets him a snort.

They are both still wearing their shoes as well, so he reluctantly shuffles off the bed. He unlaces his sneakers while Eduard tugs his Oxfords off. Yong-soo pulls his jeans down, too. Eduard reaches for his own pants.

“Let me,” Yong-soo says. He always likes unwrapping the person he’s with. It feels intimate, somehow, even if he barely knows them. He sees, more than hears, Eduard’s breath hitch.

“Alright.” He props himself up on the pillows, on top of the sheets. “The condoms are—”

“In your coat!” Yong-soo finds them, and the lube, and brings them along when he climbs back on the bed in his underwear. He kneels over Eduard’s narrow hips, leaning down to kiss him. Some of his glittery hair has gotten loose from its gelled style and is falling around his face. He smiles when Eduard tucks it away.

Kissing down the man’s pale neck in turn gets him a pleased gasp, and Yong-soo can feel his heart beat fast when he runs his tongue over the hot skin. Slowly, he works his way down to lick the hollow of his throat. Eduard’s hands run all over his torso in turn, stroking and pressing down whenever Yong-soo reacts favorably.

Yong-soo sits back up after a minute to get his hands on Eduard’s pants—nice dark green slacks. He undoes the buttons and tugs them down, reaching behind himself to get them off. He’s got nice legs, long and more toned than expected.

When their cocks, now only separated by thin underwear, slide together, they both groan. Eduard’s long fingers curl around Yong-soo’s thighs, and he can see the lean muscles in the man’s abdomen clench when he sits up.

While he meets Yong-soo’s eye, Eduard pushes a hand into his boxers.

“Yes,” Yong-soo breathes when he folds them around his cock. He’s already hard, and bites his lip through a moan when Eduard pulls his waistband down to pull him out. The man smiles up at him, fireworks still lighting up his face and hair.

For a moment, Yong-soo holds his shoulders and just lets him jerk his cock slowly. He obviously pays close attention, shifting his grip until Yong-soo groans and lets his head fall back.

Quickly, though, he uses this grasp of his shoulders to push Eduard back down. He works his own boxers off and then reaches for his, glancing up. Eduard nods. He breathes rapidly, propped on his elbows, when Yong-soo tugs his underwear down those long legs. He’s hard, too, his cock flopping down against his hip.

“See, very regular,” he says, obviously attempting a dry tone, but he stutters when Yong-soo holds him briefly, just wanting to feel the hot weight of him in his hand.

“It’s perfect,” Yong-soo tells him, licking his lips.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he says with a breathless laugh, and Yong-soo grins up at him, grasping for the box of condoms.

“It’s perfect for what I wanna do,” he clarifies. He draws out a condom.

“Which is?”

“I wanna ride you.”

“Oh—fuck.” His cock twitches noticeably. “Really?”

“Yes.” Yong-soo gets the condom out and around Eduard and then ducks down, stopping only when his lips press against the head of his cock to look up at his wide eyes. “And this, too.”

“Okay,” the man breathes, groaning when Yong-soo takes him into his mouth.

He wasn’t kidding, his cock is perfect to take, not very thick but long, matching his height, and he’s gasping beautifully while Yong-soo sucks it.

“Do you want me to—ah—prepare you, or…”

“Oh, you should. You must be good with your hands.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Eduard hisses with pleasure when Yong-soo pulls his mouth off his erection. There is some glitter on his skin, but luckily none on his hands.

“Here.” Yong-soo hands him the lube they bought and watches him pull the plastic covering off. Yeah, he’s got very nice hands, even if some of his nails seem to have been bitten down severely. There are smudges of ink on his right hand, as if he’s written reminders on it.

“How do you want…?” he’s asking, so Yong-soo flops down next to him and hitches his legs up. “Okay, message received.”

Quickly, Eduard is between his legs and one finger is pressed against Yong-soo’s hole, slick and cool.

“Start with two,” Yong-soo says.

“Huh?”

“Start with two fingers, I can take it.”

“O-okay.”

Two fingers press in slowly, and Yong-soo bites his lip, grinning up at Eduard.

“That feel good?” he asks softly.

“Yes. Move.”

Smiling in amusement, but clearly not bothered by being so sharply commanded, Eduard does. The knuckles of his long fingers drag against the rim of Yong-soo’s hole when he pulls out, and that is good, making him twitch with pleasure. Yong-soo can feel him press his fingers apart a little bit, and moans encouragingly. He relaxes into it, watching Eduard’s concentrated face. There is a sharpness in his eyes that contrasts with his flushed cheeks.

“Another,” Yong-soo orders. He shivers when that first gets more lube squirted over Eduard’s hand, and then arches up when the third finger presses into his ass.

Eduard glances up, lips parted, and Yong-soo nods, grinning.

“You’re doing great,” he says, which makes him both chuckle and flush with pleasure. Eduard runs his free hand over his chest while he works him open, rubbing his nipples until he moans and then running down to his still-hard cock, which he grasps again. All the while, he thrusts his fingers slowly but steadily into his ass until Yong-soo can no longer feel the stretch of them dragging against the rim of his hole.

“Can I… Can I suck you off?” he asks, looking up.

“Oh, man, of course. Here, let me…” Yong-soo fumbles a condom onto himself with Eduard’s fingers still inside him. “Probably not a lot, though, I’ll be honest.”

“Fair enough.” He licks his lips and ducks down, and maybe it makes sense that he’s good with his mouth too, with a singing voice like that.

Yong-soo grabs his hair, which makes him groan around his cock as his fingers twitch in his ass. They follow the same rhythm, though not for long before Yong-soo pulls him up.

“Hm? Alright?” Eduard asks. His glasses have slipped down his nose.

“Yes, I’m just—close.”

A satisfied smile.

“Alright, you lie back, I’m gonna…” Yong-soo moans when those long fingers pull out of him completely.

Eduard is still hard, he notes, pleased, as he kneels over his hips. Yong-soo reaches between his legs for the man’s cock, planting his other hand on his chest.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Just… Just relax, Eduard. I’ll, hm…”

Oh, yeah, he was right, he was so right, this is the perfect cock for his ass. He sinks down on Eduard, the man holding still except for a tremor in his legs, and then, he just sits there for a moment, feeling perfectly full and admiring the planes of Eduard’s body.

“Hope you’ve got some self-control, ‘cause I wanna—” He shifts his hips, and inhales sharply. “I wanna ride you for a while.”

Eduard’s sea green eyes go wide.

“I’ll try,” he chokes out, “but you feel very…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence because Yong-soo pushes himself up to make good on that promise. His hair falls into his face as he almost lets Eduard slip out and then pushes back down, pressing him against the bed with both hands as leverage. Eduard gasps and moans, trembling beneath him. His hands are on Yong-soo’s arms, then on his thighs, stroking the skin there with slightly clammy fingers, some still slick with lube.

Yong-soo likes that he isn’t touching his cock, imagining that he won’t until he tells him to. It’s a feeling of power that makes a wave of pleasure roll through him.

“Put your knees up,” he says, and Eduard immediately does, allowing Yong-soo to lean back and use his legs as leverage instead. His own cock bounces with every movement of his hips, still sometimes lighting up in blue or red or purple as fireworks go off. He can feel Eduard’s legs continue to tremble, and can see him start to breathe through his teeth, the muscles in his stomach clenching.

So he slows down. He grins at the frustrated groan that pulls from the man beneath him. Yong-soo leans forward, his cock pressing between their bodies as he kisses Eduard, swallowing his moans and muffling his own. The man wraps his arms around his sweaty back, though he still barely moves his hips.

“Tease,” he breathes, and Yong-soo laughs delightedly.

“I’ve been told.” He sits back up, just undulating his hips for a while, before pushing himself almost all the way off Eduard’s cock, squirting some lube in his hand, and wrapping it around him. He then sinks down again.

Something has shifted, and he jolts when an unexpectedly sharp spike of heat shoots through him.

“Oh, perfect,” he says, and continues to ride him at a steady pace for now, Eduard’s hands back on his thighs.

“Yong-soo,” he groans, fingers digging in.

“Yeah? You feel good?” he pants, grinning down at him.

“Fuck,” he grits out, eyes closing briefly. He’s obviously hot too, his pale skin very flushed in a way that looks just as lewd as Yong-soo is sure he does, fucking himself on his cock.

He slows down again, making both of them groan. He’s feeling his thighs start to tire, and thinks, a little hysterically, that’s a great workout to start the new year. He might actually go to the gym more often if it came with a handsome man’s cock up his ass. Or the other way around.

He slams down again, and Eduard swears loudly, arching off the bed. Yong-soo gasps when that seems to drive him even deeper inside. He leans forward, hair all falling around his face, putting his hands on Eduard’s shoulders.

“Move,” he snaps, and shouts when he does, pushing his hips up to match his frantic pace. His fingers now dig into his hips, moving along.

“Oh, that’s—that’s perfect,” Yong-soo pants. Eduard can only moan in reply. His eyes are dark now. “Touch me.”

“Yes,” the man gasps, as if it’s himself he’s finally allowed to touch, and those long fingers grasp for Yong-soo’s bouncing cock.

Yong-soo holds almost still so Eduard can thrust up into him while he works his cock, his movements rhythmic if somewhat jerky. He pants hard.

“I’m—fuck, Yong-soo, I’m so—”

“Me too. Mh, make me come,” he gasps. “You can do it, that’s it—”

Eduard looks up at him with wild eyes and a layer of fog around the edge of his glasses, tightens his fingers, and does exactly as ordered.

Yong-soo comes with a shout, clenching hard on his cock as pleasure washes over him. And that means Eduard finally lets go too, following almost immediately with a sound that’s nearly a sob, thrusting up. He curses through gritted teeth until Yong-soo meshes their mouths together, dragging him up. It’s not even really a kiss but feels amazing, especially with his cock still twitching in his overstimulated ass. He’s gonna feel that tomorrow, and he likes that a lot.

“Very good,” Yong-soo breathes, pressing his mouth to the sweaty skin of Eduard’s temple. The arm of his glasses is cold against his lower lip.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He rests his chin on Yong-soo’s shoulder.

They both just breathe for some time, sweat cooling in the dimly lit room. Yong-soo cards his fingers through Eduard’s hair while the man’s hands stroke his back.

“That’s… A happy new year,” Eduard mumbles, and Yong-soo laughs.

He shifts slowly, allowing him to pull out with care, and then sits on his knees, glad to finally be able to close his legs again.

“Wanna take a shower?” he asks, eyeing the way Eduard’s blond hair has gone slightly stringy and the glitter stuck to his sweaty skin.

“If you don’t mind.”

They’re both unsteady on their feet, giggling and leaning into each other on the way to the bathroom. Yong-soo notices himself looking completely fucked out in the mirror. And also glittering. It’s a good look, he decides.

“Your watch,” he tells Eduard, who smiles gratefully and sets it on the counter.

They kiss slowly while the shower heats, and then in the shower as well, but are pretty quick about washing up individually. Eduard has a nice ass too, Yong-soo can’t help but notice—he didn’t really get to see that before. The man’s hair is cute tousled after he towels it dry, though he tries to smooth it down. His glasses are now very foggy.

Yong-soo pulls the top sheets off his bed and switches the pillows around while Eduard starts putting on his clothes.

“You’re leaving?” Yong-soo asked him. He assumed as much, but, “I’m fine with you staying if you want. Enough room in this bed.”

He’s got no problem with him going, but wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, either.

“No, I think I should go,” Eduard says.

“Whatever you want.”

“I think…” He clears his throat and blushes, which is absolutely adorable considering what they’ve just finished doing. “I think this has been the best New Year’s Eve I’ve had.”

“Was it the karaoke? I bet it was the karaoke.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Yong-soo grins, and Eduard chuckles, buttoning up his shirt. His fingers still seem a little shaky, but then, so are Yong-soo’s legs. Still naked, Yong-soo walks up to him to pull him into a kiss. It’s soft but deep, their arms winding around each other.

“Well, maybe we’ll karaoke again someday,” he says.

“Who knows,” Eduard agrees. A lone firework goes off outside and catches in the edge of his glasses, making his light eyes seem nearly translucent. “Really, I’ve had a great night.”

“Me too. How are you getting home?”

“I’ll call a cab.”

They untangle themselves, and Eduard walks to the door. His sharp gaze sweeps down Yong-soo’s naked body appreciatively as he picks up his coat.

“Sleep well.”

“Absolutely.” With a grin, Yong-soo watches him go.

Karaoke. Nice.

(Mei pretends to be disgusted, wants to know every detail, and when Yong-soo finds Eduard’s watch among his toiletries, he realizes he might get to do karaoke again sooner than he thought.)

.

Belarus realizes she should have expected Hungary to follow through on her threat. Because now, of course, that means it’s time to hold up her end as well.

It’s a bright spring morning somewhere in the Hungarian countryside. The kind of day Belarus herself rarely gets, so she’s been happy to visit Hungary. Not just for that, of course. Every time she comes over, the two of them inevitably get into something or other. Two years ago, Hungary had decided she was into skateboarding and tried to grind on the Széchenyi Chain Bridge, and Belarus had had to explain to her boss why Hungary’s boss thought they’d caused some sort of international scandal after she fell off.

Before they even got together, Hungary had almost flashed a waiter, which she later explained had been an effort to make Belarus notice her. Which was stupid, of course. Hungary was hard to miss.

Case in point: this time, Hungary told Belarus that, ever since she moved into this isolated house in the countryside—a former farmstead—she got into just… Walking around without clothes on.

Belarus is fine with that, though she’d never do it herself, but then Hungary felt the need to add that, “You’d better watch out you don’t catch me. I’d be so embarrassed, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

And Belarus, still unimpressed, had replied, “Well, I know what I’d do with you, just imagine that.”

Which has brought them here, on this spring morning, with Belarus just having spotted Hungary from the upstairs window of the bedroom they shared. The nation was, at first, wearing her clothes, though just the ones she’d slept in, but she sat down on her sunny terrace a few minutes ago, started looking at her phone, and is, at this point, only in some shorts.

She’s reclining in a lawn chair, legs sprawling as they often do, and she’s touching her own bare chest. Sunlight gives her tan skin a warm glow. She looks gorgeous. It’s clear she must be teasing Belarus, even though there’s no way for her to know that Belarus has even finished her morning shower yet. When she starts working one hand underneath the shorts, still gazing at her phone, Belarus decides to go downstairs.

Once there, she decides she’ll stay indoors for now, curious how far Hungary will go without being sure she’s watching. The whole thing is obviously designed to have an audience, but Hungary doesn’t tend to have much patience, and Belarus likes the idea that she might get herself so worked up that she’ll just give in and get herself off.

Hungary glances at her house, frowning, and Belarus smirks to herself, hidden in the shadows, watching her through the open garden doors. The terrace is a nice little nook, surrounded by plants, but if Hungary had close neighbors, they’d be able to see her.

Now, Belarus sees her hand move in her shorts, sees her lick her lips and sigh. Putting her phone on the table next to her, Hungary touches her chest again. She cups her own breast, pinching her dark nipple between two fingers. Belarus hopes she’s imagining her doing it; she is. It’s fun to tease Hungary. She’s a very straightforward person in general, and even in bed. Or on her terrace, as it stands.

Hungary licks her finger and rubs it over her nipple, which must feel nice in the morning air. She shifts, then. Belarus watches her throw one leg way up onto the table, sliding even more down in her chair. It’s an indecent position in those shorts. Indecent even before Hungary pulls her hand out and then uses it to nudge the laughably narrow strip of fabric over her crotch to the side, just enough for Belarus to catch a glimpse of her vulva.

Quickly, the revealed skin is covered by her hand again, when she reaches down to press one finger into herself. If Belarus were touching her now, she thinks she might’ve waited a bit to do that. Drawn it out.

Hungary wriggles in her chair, now glaring at her house, and that makes Belarus nearly laugh out loud. For a while, the nation just fingers herself. Then, she drags her finger back up, and she bites her lip, her eyes closing as she runs her fingertip over her clit.

The skin of her vulva is obviously damp, taking on a gentle shine in the sunlight. Hungary always gets much wetter than Belarus when she’s aroused.

She has now seemingly already forgotten about her obvious mission and is just slowly masturbating with her eyes closed, tugging her shorts aside with her free hand. Belarus can see her chest moving as her breath gets a little heavier, head turning to the side. Her own body is heating up. A thrum of arousal creeps under her skin. Not as acutely as Hungary sometimes seems overcome with—she gets turned on by some very odd things, including Belarus being rude to annoying men.

Actually, she doesn’t seem to have completely lost track of what she was doing, because she keeps pausing her slow rubbing of her clit every now and then to take deep breaths, dipping two fingers into her vagina, and Belarus is sure that’s not the way it usually goes. It tends to be more of a race, with her. Still, she can’t keep this up forever.

What actually happens, rather than Hungary giving in, is her picking her phone back up, moving snappishly, and tapping at the screen with the finger that was just inside of her. Out of the corner of her eyes, Belarus spots her own phone screen lighting up, and she almost laughs again. Of course, that’s the other option.

what r u doing?? Hungary has texted her.

Watching some porn.

She watches Hungary read it. Watches her head snap up and sees her glare at her house.

“Very funny, Bela!” she shouts.

For just a second, Belarus doesn’t move, but the thought of getting a better view, getting to see even more, gets her to step out of the shadows and walk through the doors.

“You’re looking very indecent,” she tells Hungary, who sticks her tongue out, as if that’s a normal thing to do.

“Well, now that you’re here, you can show me what you’d do.” She wriggles her hips, reaching down again.

“Hm.” Belarus crosses her arms. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Hungary pauses. Blinks.

“I think you should show me what you’d think I do.”

“Oh… Of course.” It’s nearly a sigh, and Belarus sits down on the garden bench, clenching her thighs together in anticipation. Hungary looks even better up close; now, it’s obvious how dark her eyes are, and that her toes are curling against her flip-flops when she touches herself.

She looks at Belarus when she runs both hands over her chest, squeezing her breasts, and then, she lifts both legs, pressing them together to tug off her shorts.

Naked except for her flip-flops, Hungary sprawls again, continuing to touch herself slowly. She scissors her fingers, spreading her labia apart for Belarus to see, pressing three fingers of the other hand into her vagina. She’s louder, now, moans falling from her mouth.

After a moment, Hungary stands up, and before Belarus can wonder what’s going on, she’s knelt on the chair and is leaning on the table. Her back arches slightly so her ass points up and her muscular thighs are on full display. Belarus licks her lips.

“I’d think you’d lick me now, but I can’t do that to myself,” Hungary is saying, while she reaches for a bag that’s been lying on the table this whole time. Belarus hadn’t paid attention to it, but realizes that she should have when Hungary roots around inside and pulls out a slender blue dildo. Triumphantly, she continues, “But I do have this!”

She twists a little to run the sex toy down between her wet folds, rubbing it gently over her clit, before she unceremoniously presses it into her vagina. It’s not big, and nearly the whole length of the toy disappears into her on the first stroke. She moans, muscles in her thighs twitching visibly. Belarus’s body thrums, and she presses her fingers over her own crotch as she watches Hungary fuck herself with the dildo. The vinyl glistens when she pulls it out and then slams it back in.

Belarus imagines that, with the curve it has, it must be hitting her just right, and that’s why her breath catches every other stroke, legs twitching.

“Mh, fuck, Belarus,” Hungary gasps, looking over her shoulder with an impish gleam to her green eyes, even through the arousal. Belarus does laugh this time. Only Hungary.

Though the thrusts with the dildo start quick and hard, Hungary slows down fast, and Belarus realizes it’s due to her position being uncomfortable when the woman decides to remedy that problem by just climbing up on the table and sitting down on it.

“I don’t think I’d do that,” Belarus says dryly.

“I think I could persuade you,” Hungary replies. Leaning back on one hand, she pulls her legs up and continues fucking herself on her toy. It’s less obscene, but now Belarus can see her face. Can see her chest heave and her toned stomach jump when something shifts just right.

“What else is in that bag?” Belarus asks her.

“Hm?” She’s slow to react, but when the question filters through, a grin blooms on Hungary’s face. “Lots of stuff.” She reaches into the bag, roots around again, and unearths another dildo. This one is black and slightly larger, and it has a suction cup attached to the bottom. “What do you think of this?”

“What do you think I think?”

Narrowing her eyes, Hungary doesn’t reply; she just lets the blue dildo slide out of her, leaving it lying on the table, glistening in the sunlight, and immediately plunges the black one into her vagina. She gasps, throwing her head back, and Belarus presses her fingers down. The fabric of her own thin pants is already becoming rather heated and feeling damp.

Hungary works this new toy into herself with one hand, rubbing her clit intermittently with the other. It’s easy to imagine her arousal building up until she stops touching her clit, subsiding until she starts the cycle over again. Obviously, she doesn’t want to come yet. And that’s exciting; she must have more ideas to try out.

Belarus grasps one of her own breasts through her T-shirt. She hadn’t put on a bra yet, and the fabric drags over her sensitive nipple in a way that makes her moan.

Panting, Hungary rises to her knees, and sets the dildo down with the tip of it still inside her. The suction cup sticks it to the table. Hungary sinks down on it as far as she can and catches her breath for a moment, sitting still. It’s a good look, her brown hair falling across her flushed face, sunlight shining through the strands. Belarus gets why she wanted to be seen, and she’s happy to watch.

After that moment, Hungary puts both hands on the table and starts to move her hips. Belarus stands, eager to see better how the dildo is disappearing into her. Hungary grins when she rounds the table, which is creaking quite a bit but seems okay.

“I think you should get something from the bag,” the nation pants. “Audience—mh—participation, Bela.”

Admittedly curious, Belarus tugs the bag closer. Her own sex toys back home are in a box, which seems much neater than this jumble, but it honestly makes sense for Hungary.

“Don’t worry, they’re all clean,” Hungary is saying, as if that’s the issue when Belarus has literally had her tongue up her ass in the past.

In fact, when she grabs something at random, what it turns out to be is a medium-sized, glass buttplug. She holds it up, raising her eyebrows in question.

“Nice,” Hungary says, beckoning her to hand it over. Belarus does, and returns to her seat when Hungary moves again.

Leaving the dildo behind, standing obscenely upright in the middle of the table, she scrambles back into her earlier position kneeling on the chair. Belarus fans herself quickly, feeling hot despite the cool wind. Her T-shirt seems determined to drag as much against her nipples as possible, and she decides to push it up. The air feels cold, and she bites her lip.

In this position, Belarus has a perfect view of Hungary pressing the butt plug against her asshole, wriggling it around so that the tip presses her open just a bit. She shivers, breathing hard. The glass must be cold.

“Ah, fuck,” Hungary breathes, tugging her sex toy bag close. She uses both hands to search through it, unabashedly leaving her ass on display for Belarus. Somehow, it seems more intimate now that she isn’t actively playing with herself. It reminds Belarus that this isn’t a porno she’s watching, but actually the woman she’s been with for years now, putting herself on display just for her. Breath catching, she drags her fingers over her crotch, rubbing her clit through the heated fabric.

After Hungary finally finds what she’s looking for—which is lube, of course—she has to wrestle with the tube for a while before any liquid comes out, but then she is pressing the plug against her ass once more. She very slowly presses forward, head resting on the table. Her other hand actually folds around the suctioned black dildo as if it’s a handle, which amuses Belarus, but that’s not nearly as interesting to watch as the stretch of her ass around the glass as it slides in. Belarus can both hear and see her pant, and then, when the plug abruptly narrows again, the nation jolts with a sharp moan.

The butt plug now rests snugly between her ass cheeks. There’s some green decoration on the wide base, and it refracts sunlight onto Hungary’s skin.

“Cold,” she mumbles, almost wonderingly. And then, she reaches for the blue dildo again and immediately pushes it back into her vagina. Her back arches, and she swears.

Belarus can see the base of the butt plug move with her thrusts, and Hungary’s thighs twitch. Her own breath is heavy, she realizes, and she’s grasping both of her own breasts as if to have something to hold on to.

Hungary’s hair is all splayed over the table, but Belarus can see one green eye peek through the strands, watching her watch Hungary. Watching sweat bead on her back, watching her tremble, her movements quickly becoming erratic as her arm tires. Her breasts press against the table, dragging along the smooth surface.

“Can you come like that?” Belarus asks, knowing full well that she can, unlike her. Hungary only moans in response. “Maybe you should.”

“That’s the idea, Belarus,” she shouts. “Oh, fuck.”

Belarus can tell she’s getting close by the way she starts to swear under her breath, her hips trying to slam back against the dildo as she moves it. She can hear her breathe through her teeth, and watches, enraptured, when she does come.

Hungary curses loudly and starts to shake, still working the dildo into her vagina. Every time she pushes it in now, a jolt courses through her body, and the chair and table both shake with the force of it.

Panting wetly, Hungary reaches down with her other hand, awkwardly pressing it between her legs to rub her clit, and that makes the shudders even more intense. She just holds the dildo inside of her, now. Her toes curl on the edge of her seat. Belarus breathes out heavily, clenching her thighs as her core throbs.

“Oh my god,” Hungary chokes out. She lifts her head and looks over her shoulder at Belarus woozily. “What’d you think of that, huh?”

“That’s…” Belarus presses a hand into her own pants and groans in response. She is scorching, and it barely helps at all when she wriggles her pants down, especially because Hungary turns around and sits on the chair properly, watching her in turn. Both sex toys are still inside her, her fingers on her clit, and she is very flushed, her hair messy. But her eyes are bright and avid and make Belarus catch her breath as she rubs her own clit.

It does feel good to be watched like that, she thinks. She pinches her nipples, one after the other, and knows it’s not going to take long before she comes too, unless she drags it out. But Hungary has done enough of that, she thinks. Maybe she’ll put on a show of her own someday.

The heat spreads through her body, and a tingle crawls after it, intensifying as she speeds up her fingers.

“You wanna borrow one of these?” Hungary asks, tugging at her sex toy bag, but it’s too late; Belarus feels the tingle reach her core, and she’s coming undone, gasping and bucking up. “Guess not.”

“Ah, mh—maybe another time,” she gasps, stroking herself through it, watching Hungary watch her this time. Oh, that feels good.

Slowly, they both come down from their high. Hungary slips the dildo out of herself, but leaves the plug in her ass, wriggling around on her seat. Belarus slouches down on her bench. Her legs spreading, she can feel the slightly cool air hit her wet skin, and she shivers.

“Didn’t I say it felt good, being naked?” Hungary says.

“There’s a time and place,” Belarus mumbles. Demonstratively, she tugs her shirt down, making Hungary laugh. The fabric feels very warm.

“It’s a good morning.” Hungary stretches languidly and pushes her messy hair out of her face. Belarus really can’t argue with that, at this point. The woman wriggles again. “I think I’m gonna just… Stay like this for a bit.”

“You have to put clothes on,” Belarus tells her, though she’s amused. Hungary has always been comfortable in her own skin, and, honestly, it’s good to see, but really. Time and place.

“I don’t have to do anything.” She stands, puts her hands on her hips, and smirks. Sunlight brightens her eyes. “And neither do you.”

Stepping close, she leans down and kisses Belarus, then sinks down on the bench next to her. They look out over the garden, Belarus absently touching Hungary’s strong thigh.

“Alright,” she concedes. “Maybe it is nice. But if a bug flies into my vagina, I’m leaving.”

.

It was a soft noise that caught Lithuania’s attention.

He was on his way out of Estonia’s house, absently shuffling his notes from the informal little meeting they’d had after the official one. Everyone else had already left, except of course Estonia himself—at least, so he’d assumed. The noise had Lithuania halting, tilting his head curiously as he tried to place it in his memory.

Now, there was a murmur, coming from the kitchen. And then a laugh, soft but unmistakably Denmark, that cut off abruptly. Smiling to himself, Lithuania backtracked to peek around the open kitchen door. Not for any reason other than, really, he enjoyed seeing his fellow nations happy. It was difficult, sometimes.

And, oh… Denmark and Estonia seemed very happy, right now.

They were tucked together against the kitchen counter, Denmark leaning back into it as Estonia kissed him slowly. He was obviously still smiling, his many freckles bunched up under Estonia’s long fingers. Lithuania couldn't see much of Estonia's face, but all the angles of his body were relaxed, curving into Denmark. He was slouched a little to meet the man’s lips.

They looked good together, Lithuania thought. Of course, he knew they had a thing, but neither of them were all that demonstrative, so he’d never witnessed them like this. Wintry sunlight reflected off the snow outside and shone through Denmark’s wild hair, giving it a coppery tone against Estonia’s pale blond.

Another noise startled Lithuania from his absentminded staring at sunbeams. He focused to see Estonia ducking further down, Denmark tilting his head back and shifting his leg up so it was pushing between Estonia’s lean thighs.

Oh. Oh, that also looked good.

Lithuania swallowed as Denmark released a heavy breath. The nation’s hands curled into the back of Estonia's sweater vest, and he kept grinning as kisses were pressed along his jaw. There was a brightness in his eyes.

Another murmur from Estonia, the familiar cadence of his voice lower than usual.

“Oh, absolutely!” Denmark replied with enthusiasm and a horrible accent in his Estonian.

Lithuania should go, he knew this. He should leave them to their little kitchen tryst. But… They looked so happy, it was hard to tear his gaze away. Even as Denmark grabbed Estonia’s ass with both hands, making him laugh while working his hands underneath Denmark’s button-up, and even as he slowly undid the Dane’s tie, letting it slither to the floor while he rested his fingertips against the hollow of his throat, Lithuania couldn’t help but watch.

Estonia mumbled something he didn’t catch, just standing there, his hand pressed to Denmark’s chest. In response, Denmark smiled the softest smile Lithuania had ever seen on him. His heart pounded unexpectedly at the intimacy of it.

Just as Lithuania was about to slink away, Estonia moved quickly. He kissed Denmark hard, and then, he was sliding down until he kneeled on the tiled floor and started to fumble with Denmark’s belt. Earlier, Denmark had felt the need to show everyone his belt buckle, which was shaped like an ax. Estonia hadn’t seemed impressed then, and now, those quick, ink-stained fingers of his were sliding the belt open and starting on the zip of the slacks.

Lithuania’s palms were sweaty around the files he was holding as he watched Estonia pull Denmark’s pants down. Oh—he could see that Denmark was nearly hard already. And he couldn’t blame him. Lithuania had been in his place, had had those hands on his body and those lovely sea green eyes staring up at him, and it was…

He swallowed, shifting awkwardly as a guilty thrill rolled through him. God, he should go. He should go to his hotel. Have a cold shower.

But Denmark made another fascinating noise, a happy little groan, when Estonia pulled his underwear down.

Lithuania had to press one sweaty palm over his own mouth, clutching his notes tightly to his chest, as he watched Denmark arc back against the kitchen counter. He couldn’t see exactly what Estonia was doing, but the look on Denmark’s face was nearly blissful as he gazed down at him. Looking down as well, Lithuania saw Estonia’s hands on his own fly—or so he assumed. His knees were spread on the tiles, and when he tilted his head, Lithuania could actually see his mouth pressed against Denmark’s cock, which was obviously hard.

It was obscene, and they looked so good, bathed in warm sunlight, still mostly clothed. Lithuania dragged his gaze back up.

And met Denmark’s eye.

Muffling a noise, he immediately retreated into the hall. He pressed himself against the wall, heart pounding in his throat and his hand still clamped over his mouth.

It seemed to take ages before he heard Estonia call his name. The nation didn’t sound upset, but still, Lithuania was ready to apologize to his friend—to both of them—when he slowly stepped back into the doorway.

Instead, he dropped all his papers in shock. Rather than having neatened themselves, the two of them looked even more obscene now. Even more…

“Lithuania,” Estonia repeated, voice soft as if he wasn’t currently pressing his back against Denmark’s chest with the man’s mouth on the side of his neck and hand down his pants.

“Est—what’s—” Lithuania met his darkened eyes, and a shiver ran down his spine. “Oh.”

“Ya see,” Denmark said, “we got no problem havin’ an audience, but we’d like to know it’s there.”

His accent really was atrocious. He met Lithuania’s gaze steadily over Estonia’s shoulder.

“And, I mean, not just anyone gets to be the audience, ’course.”

Estonia laughed, a little helplessly to Lithuania’s ears. His breath was unsteady.

“Something like that,” he agreed softly.

Meeting both of their gazes in turn, Lithuania slowly nodded. This wasn’t an opportunity he thought he’d ever be given, but it sounded fascinating.

“Awesome,” Denmark said, and that was apparently all the encouragement needed for him to stand on his tiptoes and kiss Estonia over his shoulder, knocking the man’s glasses askew but smiling all the while. Hidden in Estonia’s slacks, Denmark’s hand moved brusquely. He was a pretty brusque man, Lithuania thought, and so it fascinated him when he leveled another one of those incredibly soft, smitten looks at Estonia. It was an odd juxtaposition.

Estonia smiled back. His cheeks were flushed, and he parted his lips, eyes closing, when Denmark did something with his hand. Cautiously, Lithuania stepped closer. Denmark grinned. He was pushing—also brusquely—at Estonia’s pants to get them down around his hips, and Estonia inhaled sharply when the nation rocked against his ass. When he was freed from his underwear, it was obvious that he was nearly hard, which made Lithuania’s heart skip a beat.

“He was tellin’ me earlier—” Denmark started, pausing when Estonia groaned in apparent embarrassment. Amused, Lithuania smiled.

“I’d like to know,” he said. His voice caught a little, and Estonia breathed out heavily.

“I think we oughta just show ya,” Denmark said.

“Yes,” Estonia agreed. And, “We should—go.”

Lithuania exchanged an amused look with Denmark when the man extricated himself with jerky movements and started wobbling awkwardly to the kitchen door, past Lithuania.

“Est,” Denmark tried.

“Bedroom,” was all the commentary they got, but that was enough. They both followed.

Denmark touched Lithuania as he passed, clasping a hand on his shoulder and briefly around the back of his warm neck. Embarrassingly, Lithuania’s heart skipped a beat at the innocent contact, though it was reassuring as well. Denmark flashed a grin.

In Estonia’s light bedroom, the Dane immediately dragged Estonia into a deep kiss, before pushing him over so he sprawled on his bed, legs tangled in his own slacks and underwear.

“You can just tell me to lie down,” Estonia told him, which got another grin spreading across Denmark’s face.

“Why would I do that?” He was crawling up over him. “Lithuania’s not here to hear me talk. He’s here to…” He yanked at Estonia’s pants while Lithuania shakily rounded the bed. The noise Estonia made shot straight to his cock. He leaned against a dresser, wiping his palms on his pants.

The sunlight seemed even brighter here, falling in beams across many knickknacks Lithuania recognized and just as many that he didn’t, lighting up Estonia’s pale skin as Denmark worked his sweater vest and button-up off. Both of them were hard, now. Despite or because of Lithuania? He pressed a hand against the front of his slacks absentmindedly as he watched Estonia’s breath stutter, Denmark’s restless hands roaming his chest. The nation was as lithe as he’d always been, but had more muscle than last time Lithuania had been able to look so openly. And Denmark seemed eager to touch—too eager, perhaps, because Estonia appeared to be getting frustrated that he wouldn’t take his shirt off even as Denmark pulled a myriad of breathy little sounds from him with his hands and mouth.

Lithuania loosened his own tie. All of his clothes were feeling very tight right now.

When Denmark finally did tug his shirt off, it was with a playful eyeroll.

Oh, wow, they were both naked, all that pale skin sliding together—they looked incredible together. Lithuania let his gaze wander until he met Estonia’s eye, familiar sea green bright behind his wonky glasses.

“You can—mh—sit down, Lithuania,” he breathed, gesturing. “Just push my stuff—oh!” He grabbed a handful of Denmark’s hair as the nation mouthed at his neck, still looking at Lithuania.

Very slowly, Lithuania did as told. He didn’t look away as he shoved some of Estonia’s clothes off a chair that stood in the corner and dragged it over. It felt somehow gratuitous, wanton, to actually sit down and watch, but who was he to protest?

Denmark was now rolling his hips, but he glanced up and grinned when Lithuania sat.

“Damn,” he said. “You’re likin’ the view, huh?” His dark blue gaze found Lithuania’s straining slacks, then slid over to Estonia. The grin turned soft. “Can’t say I blame ya. It’s a pretty fuckin’ good one.”

Underneath him, Estonia squirmed, but let himself be kissed again, winding his arms around Denmark’s neck. His legs spread around the nation’s hips.

“Mh, Denmark, I was… Doing something,” he mumbled, which made Denmark laugh.

“You sure were.” And, looking at Lithuania, “You interrupted just as it was—whoa!”

Estonia had rolled them over to the other side of his bed. He laughed too, righting his glasses with a glance at Lithuania.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Lithuania told him, quirking his eyebrows. “Go… Go ahead.”

Denmark breathed a curse, and Estonia swallowed visibly. The flush had spread down his neck, but he nodded, took a deep breath, and bent down.

“Fuck yeah,” Denmark said, watching just as avidly as Lithuania as Estonia pulled his hard cock up and dragged his tongue along the flushed shaft.

Lithuania’s breath caught. His fingers fumbled with his tie and the top buttons of his shirt. God, that was beautiful. And they were letting him see. Estonia actually glanced over at him with his lips wrapped around the head of Denmark’s cock, and Lithuania couldn’t help the choked moan that escaped him. He’d never developed a taste for pornography, but this… This was certain to stay in his head for a while. His own cock twitched in his pants, and he pressed a hand over it.

Denmark was mumbling things that were half in horrible Estonian and half in Danish. It was hard to make out—mostly expletives—but Lithuania was sure he heard him praise Estonia’s mouth, and he said something about the audience that made Estonia pull off him with a wet sound and gasp, bright eyes closing while he jerked him off.

“Denmark,” he panted. “We’re supposed to be showing…”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon up here.”

Estonia was slow to do so, running his tongue across Denmark’s leanly muscular chest with what seemed to be no purpose other than to frustrate him. It worked, because Denmark finally just dragged him up by the back of his neck, and Estonia quirked a pleased little smile. Lithuania laughed softly. Yeah, that was like him. Estonia knew he had the patience to match his attitude, and knew how to use it to his advantage. Even in bed.

And Denmark, again, was brusque.

Right now, he was flipping them right back, closer to Lithuania.

“Teasin’ me,” he grumbled. Estonia smiled mildly in that way that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. Lithuania opened more buttons of his shirt, watching Denmark rock them together, his slick cock sliding alongside Estonia’s—which was longer, but thinner, much like the man himself was taller but skinnier. Both breathed heavily.

“Den,” Estonia said, pushing against him, and he seemed to snap out of something. He turned his dark gaze on Lithuania.

“Got ya worked up,” he observed. Lithuania supposed he looked as flushed as he felt, then.

“Of course.”

Estonia choked a moan.

“Yeah, ’course. Hey, Lithuania, reach into the drawer and get us some lube, will ya?”

Estonia nodded, breath hitching when Lithuania handed the little pump bottle—half-full—to Denmark with unsteady fingers.

“You want some of this?” Denmark asked, pumping generously. His blue eyes flicked down to Lithuania’s crotch, and he licked his lips. That felt nice, but Lithuania shook his head. Not now. “Alright.”

And, without further warning, he grasped Estonia’s cock with one hand while the other disappeared further down. Estonia gasped, legs twitching and lifting up. Denmark grinned.

“Ya really were lookin’ forward to it, huh?” He bent over, letting Estonia’s erection go to press openmouthed kisses to the sharp jut of his hip, to dip his tongue into his belly button and lick just over the head of his cock as it lay against his skin. Estonia grabbed his wild hair tightly, panting and licking his lips. Denmark groaned happily when he tugged.

Lithuania found that he was running his fingers through his own long hair. The movement caught Estonia’s attention, and his eyes were wild. It was easy to forget how old Estonia was, but sometimes, when he looked like that, it wasn’t hard to imagine how he might’ve appeared all those centuries before Lithuania even existed. Probably when Denmark first met him. Heat flushed through him.

With a brief tug at his own hair, Lithuania reached down and tugged at his zipper.

“Yes,” Estonia breathed, and it was unclear exactly what he was referring to as he looked between them and his hips bucked. Denmark glanced up. His hand was moving between Estonia’s legs, but he used the other to pick the bottle of lube back up.

“Bet ya want this now.” His eyes widened when Lithuania, heart pounding, fumbled his erection out over the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Damn, you’re packin’ something there, dude.”

Estonia laughed breathlessly, while Lithuania flushed and snatched the lube.

Still grinning, Denmark resumed his ministrations. Estonia’s thighs were twitching, one hitched up. Cautiously, Lithuania reached out and touched his knee. He wasn’t sure if the touch would be welcomed, but Estonia just groaned encouragingly, so Lithuania softly curled his fingers against his warm skin while he loosely took his own cock in hand.

“Denmark,” Estonia said, in a tone that was very nearly a whine. He squirmed again.

“C’mon, where’s that legendary patience of yours?” Denmark asked. He grinned at Lithuania, who breathed a laugh.

“If you’re going to conspire against me, you—” Estonia gasped.

Denmark was biting the tip of his tongue in concentration, which was somehow—well, endearing wasn’t entirely the right word, Lithuania supposed, given the circumstances. But something like that. He was obviously careful. Kind, for all his joking around. And, god, he looked good when he leaned forward to kiss Estonia.

Absentmindedly moving one hand around himself, Lithuania watched curiously as Denmark whispered something against the skin underneath Estonia’s ear. Something that made Estonia’s breath hitch and his hand tighten in the man’s hair.

When Denmark sat back up on his knees, he dragged Estonia up with both hands around his back. Estonia arched into him, his leg sliding away from Lithuania, who touched Denmark’s arm instead. He had freckles everywhere.

For a moment, it seemed as though he was pulling Estonia into his lap, which was a mental image that shot straight to Lithuania’s cock, but he didn’t. Instead, Estonia slowly clambered to his knees. Paused. Denmark used that as an opportunity to grab his ass again and squeeze, which looked obscene even before he pushed two slick fingers between the man’s ass cheeks so Lithuania could see them pressing into him. He choked out a moan, and Estonia cursed sharply.

“Is that…” Lithuania struggled to remember the correct Estonian words. “Est, that’s what you were telling h-him about?”

A muffled groan. Denmark grinned, spreading his fingers apart as if he were trying to make Lithuania explode.

“You wouldn’t guess, but he gets pretty explicit in writin’.”

“I know,” Lithuania said, which made the grin widen.

“C’mon, Est.” Denmark pulled his fingers out of him, twisting them. They glistened in the sunlight.

Mumbling incoherently, Estonia turned around so he was facing Lithuania, with Denmark pulling him to his chest. He was flushed and panting, glasses slipping down his nose. One of Denmark’s arms wound around his torso, pressing to his breastbone. Lithuania’s hips bucked.

“Oh, wow,” Estonia said, as if he were the one seeing it, but he was looking at Lithuania.

“Hell yeah,” Denmark mumbled. He rocked his hips. Lithuania imagined his cock sliding between Estonia’s ass cheeks, which were firm, these days, from cycling most places and would certainly feel amazing. When Estonia dropped to all fours, he could see just that.

Estonia held one hand out.

After a moment, Lithuania got the hint and passed the lube back, and he and Estonia both watched Denmark stroke himself with a slick hand. Lithuania’s own hand clenched involuntarily around his straining erection as he watched, gaze flicking all over the nations’ bodies. He couldn’t see it from this angle when Denmark pushed into Estonia, but he saw Estonia’s handsome features slacken, eyes half-lidded behind his glasses, his hands curling into the sheets. Denmark kept mumbling curses in several languages.

They paused for a moment, before Denmark abruptly pulled Estonia back up.

“Fuck,” Estonia bit out. His cock twitched and leaked precum. “Yeah—”

Wrapping his arm back around him, Denmark started to move his hips, pulling Estonia down on his cock. All three of them moaned, loud in the quiet room. The sound of Denmark thrusting into him, the way Estonia was gasping and his cock was twitching with almost every stroke, all made Lithuania flush with heat. He pushed his pants further down, getting them hurriedly off one leg so he could sprawl, tugging at his cock.

“Oh my god,” Estonia panted. “Oh—Lithuania…”

He reached for him. Denmark loosened his grip, and Lithuania could obviously see it coming, but somehow it came as a surprise when Estonia’s long fingers curled into the collar of his shirt and yanked.

“What—”

“Get on up,” Denmark said breathily, now thrusting slow. Lithuania met Estonia’s eyes. Watched him lick his lips.

“Please,” Estonia said, voice catching in a way that made Denmark groan, and Lithuania could not resist. Suddenly frantic, he kicked his pants off all the way and clambered after Estonia as he was pulled back up.

The nation’s hands were on him immediately, yanking at his half-open shirt. It was Denmark who pulled him closer, though, and Denmark who wrapped a hand around his erection while Estonia messily kissed him.

It was overwhelming, but amazing.

“Now, that’s a fuckin’ sight,” Denmark said.

Lithuania looked at him while Estonia fumbled with his shirt, thrusting his hips into his hand. When that brought his and Estonia’s cocks together, both of them inhaled sharply.

“Oh my god—fuck, Lithuania.” Estonia tugged both his button-up and undershirt over his head and kissed him again while he wound one hand through his now-messy hair. Their cocks slid together as Estonia pushed himself down on Denmark, who in turn did his best to catch both of them in one hand.

Estonia’s glasses fogged up with both his and Lithuania’s breath when they parted. He leaned his head back so Denmark could kiss his neck. As he ran his teeth over Estonia’s flushed, damp skin, Denmark met Lithuania’s eye. His fingers tightened and his eyes flashed wildly.

With Estonia panting between them, Lithuania fisted a hand into his spiky hair like he’d seen and caught the man’s delighted grin with his lips. It was messy and made Estonia curse and twitch, which obviously had an effect on both of them. Lithuania thrust against him while Denmark swore under his breath.

Estonia hung on to Lithuania for leverage, his movements quickly becoming frantic between them, glasses slipping ever further down. It was all Lithuania could do to kiss him once more, tilting his head so Denmark could see their mouths meet. He curled his free hand around Estonia’s heaving ribcage.

“Fuckin’ hot,” Denmark groaned. They both thrust forward, and Estonia shuddered abruptly, cursing again.

Lithuania watched his face as he came undone. His eyelids fluttered and his lips parted. He looked almost surprised, trying to catch his breath while his body shook. It was incredible, and Lithuania kept moving his hips, Denmark’s hand now slick with Estonia’s release as he gripped him tight.

“Can I—” Denmark started.

“Yes!” Estonia shouted, then moaned when Denmark continued driving up into him, rocking him into Lithuania. Dropping his head on Lithuania’s shoulder, Estonia reached down. His hand joined Denmark’s around his cock.

Both of them faltered when Denmark groaned, his face scrunching up kind of adorably, but Estonia resumed quickly, though his breath was shaky on Lithuania’s skin.

It did not take long before Lithuania joined both of them. Heat pulsed through his veins as he looked at the two nations, and he gasped for breath as he came, hips bucking abruptly. That got another moan from Estonia and a wild grin from Denmark, as they both worked him through it, fingers tangling.

After a long while, having slowed and then stopped, Estonia finally raised his head. They looked at each other for a long moment, seeming almost suspended in time and breathing the same air. A hint of fog had settled around the edge of Estonia’s glasses.

Then, abruptly, Estonia hiccupped a helpless laugh and kissed him, softly. Lithuania allowed himself to relax into it, so much that he didn’t even realize he was being lowered to the bed until he hit the pillow. Estonia blinked, apparently equally disoriented, though his eyes closed briefly when Denmark moved. He must’ve pulled out.

All at once, Estonia let himself fall so he was half on Lithuania, one leg still over his. His cock slid against his hip, softening and slick with both of their come. He leaned on an elbow, putting his head in his hand and resting the other on Lithuania’s chest.

When Lithuania looked at Denmark, the nation was smiling in that soft way again. Even now? Upon him catching Lithuania looking, the expression didn’t even change.

“You’ve been an awesome audience, Lithuania,” he said. His dark eyebrows jumped, and now there was mischief layered over the fondness in his eyes. “I think you’re welcome anytime.”

“You think,” Estonia echoed, still a little out of breath.

“Can’t speak for you, man.”

A huff. “No, you can’t. But… I agree.”

“Okay,” Lithuania just breathed. Really, he didn’t know if or when the situation would ever come up again, but… “It, uh…” He cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure how to voice all the thoughts running through his mind. Denmark smiled, and before he could put anything in order, the man leaned over him and kissed him. It was soft as well, though still messier than with Estonia. A little more… Brusque.

“Nice,” Estonia slurred, which made Denmark laugh.

“Glad ya think so!” He began to clamber off Estonia’s bed.

Lithuania watched with amusement while he flitted around the room, fiddling with things here and there.

“Don’t ask,” Estonia mumbled. Rolling to his back—and taking his radiating heat with him—he stretched slowly, finally nudging his glasses into the correct position.

“I’m hungry,” Denmark announced.

“You know where the kitchen is,” Estonia told him, not looking his way. And, “Put some clothes on, you’ll burn yourself!”

“I’ll be fine!” Denmark stood in the middle of the room for a moment with his hands on his hips, utterly unashamed. And why shouldn’t he be, Lithuania thought vaguely. He looked happy.

He sprang into action again quickly enough, flitting over to kiss Estonia and then out of the bedroom, naked.

“Wash your hands!” Estonia called after him.

“Is he… Always like that?”

“He gets restless.” He turned to his side again, gaze wandering over Lithuania’s body.

“Isn’t it weird he’s so casual about…”

A gentle hand ran through Lithuania’s hair, getting it out of his still-flushed face. Estonia smiled.

“Wouldn’t have gone this way with many other people, you know.”

For some reason, that did actually calm Lithuania’s thoughts.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Estonia asked him, long fingers now tracing the contours of his face gently.

“If you’d have me.”

“Of course, Lithuania. You’re always welcome.” It echoed Denmark’s earlier words and nestled snugly in Lithuania’s chest.

“I’ll take you up on that,” he said.